


And a Side of Soup, Please!

by integrase



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: A pinch of spice, And Of Course - Freeform, F/F, Jazzalil, Jemilla is too smooth, Surprise it's another extra gay AU for y'all, Useless Gay Zazzalil, a cup of fluff, a touch of angst, mentions of past keeri/zazzalil, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/integrase/pseuds/integrase
Summary: As Zazzalil is sorting out a drink order in the kitchen, Keeri approaches her, saying, “I have news.”“Good news or bad news?” asks Zazzalil, pounding on the side of the soda machine a few times to try and fix the poor pressure.“Good news.”“Do tell.” The machine sputters back to life and coke sprays out of it, narrowly missing Zazzy’s face. “Jesus!”“I definitely think your doctor-student girl likes girls,” states Keeri, proudly. “That’s the vibe I got.”* * *Zazzalil and Keeri work together in a restaurant belonging to Zazzy's parents. When a new girl joins a group of regulars, the medical staff from the nearby hospital, Zazzalil can't stop being totally flustered around her- every single day. Thankfully, it appears Jemilla might also be interested...!





	1. Chapter 1

“I swear, when she comes in for lunch today, you’ll understand what I mean.”

Zazzalil made this promise to Keeri at the 6AM start of their shift, standing side-by-side brewing coffee in the kitchen of the Blue Hat Eatery. Keeri only laughed and said, “Sure!” to Zazzalil’s earlier statement: the new girl who comes in at lunchtime with the nearby hospital’s doctors looks like the daughter of the sun and stars.

Yeah, that was a little cheesy, Zazzalil could admit. But she’d be damned if it weren’t true. This new medical student, or intern, or _something_ , was the most spectacular and beautiful woman that Zazzalil had ever seen in the flesh. Her name- something that started with a “J”. Zazzy hadn’t been around their table enough to eavesdrop that detail. Maybe today.

Now, Keeri balances a full tray of faux-artesian lunch dishes and a second tray of drinks, while Zazzalil bounces up and down on her toes at the till, cashing out some of her patrons. The day is young, and her parents’ restaurant is still new, so the Blue Hat’s business slow. Beyond bussing some tables, Zazzalil has little to do but wait for the new girl and the cohort of doctors she’s with. Zazzalil’s last breakfast-rush customers file out the door. She checks the time: 11:31 AM. _Soon._

Clean the mess. Remove the dishes. Wipe the table down. Refill the ketchup, salt, and pepper. Place the cutlery. It’s all routine to Zazzalil, something she could do with her eyes closed. She’s been bussing tables in various restaurants she was fifteen. And now, working in her parents’ restaurant at age 21, it’s become a lifestyle.

The jingle of the doorbell suddenly breaks her out of her rhythm. Zazzalil spins to check who has arrived.

_It’s her!_

“Hello!” Zazzalil chirps to the gaggle of hungry medical staff. “Sit anywhere you’d like.”

There’s about seven of them today. They choose two four-tops, pushed together. The new girl sits at one table’s corner. Today, her curly auburn hair is out of its usual ponytail, resting on her shoulders. She’s wearing leaf-green scrubs that bring out the colour of her eyes. J’s magnificent smile is apparent as she chats with her coworkers and browses a menu, too. And everything about her is so-

“Zazzalil, quit being such a useless gay and go take their drink orders.”

It’s Keeri, smirking and then sticking out her tongue at Zazzy. “You’re staring.”

Apparently, Zazzalil had ceased wiping a table in the middle of the job to gawk at the new girl. Smooth.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” replies Zazzalil, sheepishly. She moves to wipe the rest of the table, but Keeri bumps her with one hip and gestures Zazzalil to go.

Zazzalil nods her thanks, then walks up to J and her table, notepad at the ready. She puts on a smile that’s enthusiastic (but not too enthusiastic) and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear before greeting the group and asking for their drink order.

Most of them ask for Coke or coffee and water. The new girl is last to order. “May I have a black tea with honey, please?”

Her usual, but Zazzalil doesn’t point out that she knows this. “Of course!”

She wishes J’s gaze would linger on her a little longer, but the whole group from the hospital is hungry, and so the new girl looks back at her menu.

“I’ll give y’all some more time with the menus,” says Zazzalil. She walks off through the swinging doors of the kitchen, where Keeri is grabbing her jacket. She’s probably heading outside for a smoke break.

Upon seeing Zazzy, Keeri grins. “Are you gonna handle the med staff’s table, or will you be too busy coming up with pick-up lines to prep their food?”

“I’ve got it,” Zazzalil almost snaps, but Keeri is an old friend- she knows she’s joking. Instead, Zazzalil adds, “Did you see her?”

“Yeah,” says Keeri. “She really is gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” Zazzalil portions ice into several glasses, then pours water into each. There’s water for everyone at the table of seven, in addition to their other drinks, making for a full tray. It takes a few minutes, and by then Keeri has returned from the back of the building.

“Let me help?” she offers.

“As long as you aren’t too busy,” replies Zazzy. She slides the tray of waters to the taller woman.

“I’ll have to get back to my table soon.” says Keeri. “Honestly, I just want to see if my gaydar goes off near your girl.”

“ _Keeri!_ ”

Before Zazzalil can stop her, Keeri pops open the kitchen door with a hip and heads outside. Zazzalil hurries to put the last touches on J’s tea- a slice of lemon, a tea bag, and two packets of honey, set on a dish with a steaming hot mug of water. She balances the tray, then heads out into the dining area. Keeri is finishing giving waters to each of the patrons.

“Hi, guys. I have the rest of your drinks here,” announces Zazzalil. She doles out the cokes and coffees first, saving the tea for last. Most of the menus have been closed, signalling the hospital staff is ready to order. Zazzalil can predict what about half of them will ask for- they’ve been coming here for lunch since the restaurant opened a few months ago.

Zazzalil sets down the new girl’s tea, and says, “Let me know if you’ll need more honey, honey.”

She’s been working on that line for the past ten minutes. It’s pretty good for her standards. Just a little flirty, but easily passable as friendly fun. And J has been coming to the Blue Hat daily for about two weeks, so it’s not like they aren’t acquainted.

Before she can think about it too hard, Zazzalil says, “Are we ready for me to take your orders?”

There are some nods. The man sitting across from the new girl says, “You start, Jemilla.”

_Jemilla._

She does, ordering the soup of the day and a sandwich. Zazzalil nods while writing a heart next to her order- so she’ll remember what pattern the food orders came in, of course. The rest of the orders are made in moments, and the medical staff pass their menus down the two tables. They end up in a pile in front of Jemilla, who hands them off to Zazzalil once she finishes scribbling down the final doctor’s gluten-free-vegan order substitutes.

“Thank you,” says Zazzalil. Their eyes meet, and for just one second too long, Zazzalil is floored while smiling at Jemilla. God, she’s pretty.

The waitress turns and walks to a computer, inputting their order promptly. Since the Blue Hat Eatery is low on customers today, it’s likely the cook will prepare the food in little time. Zazzalil scans her section and finds a few tables have been seated. She makes her way to them and goes through her usual routine.

As she’s sorting out a drink order in the kitchen, Keeri approaches her, saying, “I have news.”

“Good news or bad news?” asks Zazzalil, pounding on the side of the soda machine a few times to try and fix the poor pressure.

“Good news.”

“Do tell.” The machine sputters back to life and coke sprays out of the machine, narrowly missing Zazzy’s face. “Jesus!”

“I definitely think your doctor-student girl likes girls,” states Keeri, proudly. “That’s the vibe I got.”

“Oh god, Keeri,” says Zazzalil. “You meant it when you said you were going out there to- to-”

Keeri giggles. “Yeah. I’m not a womanizer or anything, but you know me.”

And with two finger guns and a wink, Keeri grabs a waiting set of dishes and leaves the kitchen. Zazzalil groans. Her best friend can be so extra, sometimes.

_Ding!_

The hospital staff’s order is up. Almost perfect timing. Zazzalil runs out the drink order she was working on, then returns to the kitchen. It takes a few moments to load everything onto a jumbo tray, but for an expert like Zazzy, it’s a breeze. The smells of hot and fresh food fill her nostrils. Damn, is it time for a lunch break yet?

She carries everything out to the group of medics, who seem surprised their food is ready. Their lively conversation dies down, and Zazzalil begins to call out, “Vegetable lasagna for you. . . beef dip for you . . .” And again, Zazzalil leaves Jemilla’s meal for last, just to savour those extra seconds of the new girl’s eyes on her.

“A chicken noodle soup and BLT for you,” finishes Zazzalil. Jemilla thanks her.

Before Zazzalil can ask if anyone needs a refill, she’s interrupted by Jemilla, who smiles widely and says, “I need more honey, honey.”

Well, then. Zazzalil is blushing before she can register the request, and after a moment she says “Yes, of course.”

She turns and hustles into the kitchen. When she gets there, Keeri takes one look at her and snorts.

“Did you get asked out?” she laughs.

Zazzalil frowns, shaking her head.

“Then what happened?” asks Keeri.

“She used my ‘honey’ line back on me. And- I forgot to ask about the refills,” says Zazzalil.

“That’s cute! And you can just take them a pitcher of water, probably.”

She quickly takes care of business with other customers, retrieves a pitcher of water and two more honey packets, and then drops them off at the hospital staff’s tables. She lucks out- everyone is happy with more water, and Jemilla gives her a polite thanks for the honey- and half an hour later, the group is paying for their bills with Keeri at the front desk. They left a decent tip in cash on the table, Zazzalil notices as she begins cleaning their mess. Nice.

Beside a neat stack of dishes at one end of the table, where Jemilla had sat, is a napkin with writing in blue pen atop it. Zazzalil picks it up curiously, heart beating louder in her chest.

It reads, “Thanks, honey :)”

_Jemilla._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! it'd means the world to me if you left a kudos.
> 
> expect more chapters :)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning at work is the start of a Tuesday, and Zazzalil decides her week is going to be awesome if Monday is any indication.

But then.

But then Keeri calls in sick, leaving Zazzalil alone to seat, wait, and bus tables.

_Delightful._

Not that it’s Keeri’s fault- she has a recurring strep throat infection, so this isn’t the first time and won’t be the last time she calls in sick. Zazzalil just has to put on her big girl pants and take care of things, especially to keep up the reputation of her parents’ restaurant.

Thankfully, the day starts slow. Most of the customers who come into the Blue Hat want a simple coffee-and-muffin combo, so Zazzalil spends her extra time cleaning the kitchen. The nearby radio plays 80’s synthpop hits all morning, begetting an impromptu dance party with the cooks, Grant and Clark. Clark is quiet, while Grant is a huge goofball, and Zazzalil loves them both like brothers.

Surprisingly, it’s Clark who asks, “When’s your girl due to pop by?”

“What?” squeaks Zazzalil.

“Keeri told us everything, Zazzy,” clarifies Grant.

“The regulars from the hospital will be here around eleven forty-five. You assholes know this!” grumbles Zazzalil. _Damn it, Keeri._

Things begin to pick up crazy speed around 10am. A nearby Comic Con ended yesterday, and many people are grabbing a meal before hitting the road. Blue Hat Eatery is in a prime location for this. People are suddenly asking to be seated every few minutes. When 11am rolls around, Zazzalil hasn’t had moment’s break yet.

At least the sunlight filters in through the blinds, creating a comfy atmosphere, and accenting the bright paint on the walls. The food is coming out of the kitchen in a timely manner, and the presentation is impeccable. Zazzalil smiles wide and jokes around with her customers- especially the cosplayers still in costume. All of this adds up to what Zazzalil hopes will be several five-star Yelp reviews. A better reputation means repeat customers and free advertising by word-of-mouth. The Blue Hat could certainly use it this early in its lifetime, Zazzalil’s parents had pointed out.

11:45am: like clockwork, the group from the nearby hospital files into the restaurant . . . to find no seating for their group. Zazzalil is sure this is the first time this has happened.

“Hi, guys!” she greets them at the doors. “We’re pretty swamped right now. Could you guys hold on for maybe ten minutes?”

The turban-wearing man in front smiles and says, “Of course, dear.” Jemilla is just past his shoulder.

“Thank you so much!” says Zazzalil, already walking to the kitchen to check for completed food orders. She sneaks one glance over her shoulder to see the new girl again.

Ten busy minutes go by, and Zazzalil’s estimate was perfect: two four-tops clear out and can be pushed together for the group of seven. She ushers the hospital staff to the tables once they’ve been bussed. Today, Jemilla sits closer to the middle of the group.

“I’ll bring you waters as soon as I can,” promises Zazzalil. First, she has to bill a table, take orders from another, get the drinks for the booth near the door- oh god, are those more customers walking in?

More time passes, and Zazzalil can feel herself running out of steam. She puts on the best face she can when she finally returns to the medic’s table with seven glasses of water. The hospital staff are all ready; they have their menus closed and set in a small pile on the corner of the table. How considerate. She flips open her notepad and gets to work taking orders.

“Coke and a veggie burger, with a side of...”

“Caesar salad and a coffee, please...”

“Avocado and feta lettuce wrap, hold the feta, no ranch sauce, and please substitute the...”

When it comes to Jemilla’s order, Zazzalil writes a few hearts next to her usual soup-of-the-day and sandwich with a cup of black tea and honey, _honey_. It pleases her to know that they have a little running joke now.

Orders punched into the computer, Zazzalil then hurries to the washroom to take the quickest of bathroom breaks. She slams into a stall to do her business. Someone walks in behind her.

She’s washing her hands when the other person finishes in their stall. As fate would have it, Jemilla ends up next to Zazzalil at the sinks.

_Holy shit, what the fuck do I do??_

_Act natural? What the fuck is natural right now?_

_This water is way too hot! Oh my god._

“Hi!” says Jemilla, exuding confidence. Her auburn hair shines under the washroom lighting. One side is tucked behind her ear, and Zazzalil notices the dangling jewelry in them. Her teeth are perfect, too, and her lips... look, frankly, amazing to kiss.

Keeri’s voice echoes in Zazzalil’s head: _You useless gay._

“Hey,” replies Zazzalil, in the most relaxed tone she can muster.

“Busy day, huh?” says Jemilla. “I’ve never seen the restaurant nearly this bustling before.”

Zazzalil likes how Jemilla’s lips move on her B’s.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nuts. Good for Mom and Dad, though.”

“Mom and Dad?” Jemilla gives her a curious look.

“My parents own the Blue Hat,” admits Zazzalil.

“Oh, nice.” The curious look on Jemilla’s face turns into a smile. “Tell your parents they’re doing an excellent job.”

“I... will! Gotta go!”

With a bit of unnecessary speed and panic, Zazzalil exits the washroom and runs right to the kitchen. There are orders waiting for her there, so she gives herself a shake and tries to return to her regular state of being, a state less starry-eyed and more on-task.

Dishes are delivered. Drinks are filled and re-filled. Bills are... billed. Jemilla and the six other hospital staff receive and eat their meals soon after the washroom incident. And Zazzalil can’t help but thing maybe- _maybe_ \- she and Jemilla are making more eye contact than usual.

Today, when the group leaves, there’s another good tip on the table, and another note.

_For real- tell your parents I love their restaurant! - J_

* * *

Once Zazzalil’s shift finishes, there’s little to do except relax after a day like today. She unwinds at home in her bedroom, snug in bed, with her laptop on her knees. She’s resolved to find out as much out about Jemilla on social media as she can- half out of curiosity, and half out of a need to know if Jemilla likes girls, too.

Finding Jemilla’s Facebook profile isn’t difficult. “Jemilla”, like “Zazzalil”, is an incredibly uncommon name. Unfortunately for Zazzy, her crush’s profile is well guarded; little content is available to browse. Zazzalil only finds out a few details. First, Jemilla’s current employment is listed as a medical intern at the hospital by the Blue Hat, so that clears that up. Second, Jemilla is single. Third and finally, she and Jemilla have two mutual friends: Tiblyn and Emberly, both girls from Zazzalil’s former high school. Neat.

That gives Zazzalil a lead. She switches over to Instagram, and clicks onto Tiblyn’s profile. There, she sifts through all of the people Tiblyn is following, trying to find if Jemilla has an Insta profile. Nothing is obvious- Tiblyn has a LOT of followers. She moves over to Emberly’s profile, and does the same. Near the bottom is where Zazzalil finds a profile containing the nickname j.milla, which is pretty close to Jemilla. She clicks on the link.

_Bingo!_

And unlike the Facebook account, Jemilla’s Instagram account isn’t closed to the public. There are a lot of beautiful pictures of nature, with selfies and group photos scattered between them. Zazzalil begins to click on some of the more recent self-portraits, and blushes. God, Jemilla is stunning. Like, 10/10. Zazzalil’s favourite pics are the ones with Jemilla’s full grin.

She wants to make Jemilla smile like that.

Next, Zazzalil clicks on some of the nature pictures. It looks like Jemilla spends a lot of time outdoors, despite being so busy at the hospital. There’s a great hiking trail outside of the city - some of the photos look as if they were taken there. Several of them include a handsome German Shepherd, and others include Jemilla’s running group. Zazzalil smirks. Running is not her thing, personally. But you do you, Jemilla.

Zazzalil notices that Jemilla has a current Instagram story. She clicks on it. There’s one Boomerang-style video playing, bouncing between Jemilla’s happy face and the front door sign of . . . the Blue Hat Eatery! The captions on the video read, “Lunch time! Love Blue Hat’s food and staff! #goodeats”

“Food and staff?” says Zazzalil aloud. Her heart rate picks up a little, and she chides herself for it. But c’mon. _She’s_ staff. Technically, Jemilla meant _her_ , even just a little.

That’s enough stalking, Zazzalil decides. Anyway, she didn’t learn if Jemilla was on the Sapphic side or not. She composes herself and finds her palms are sweaty. Gross. Time for a nap.

* * *

“Zazzy! Come down for dinner!”

The voice of Zazzalil’s Mom echoes up the stairway. Zazz rolls over to check her alarm clock: 5:47pm. What a nap. She throws on PJs (because sleeping in the nude is the best) before heading downstairs.

Her parents are already sitting at the dinner table. The menu isn’t anything too fancy tonight. There’s a roast chicken in the centre of the table, mashed potatoes to its left, and boiled peas and carrots on the right. Zazzalil’s Dad has already begun dishing himself out some grub.

“Hi, baby. How was work?” greets Mom. She’s already changed out of fancy work clothes and into pajamas- like mother, like daughter.

“Today was busy as shit, Mom,” answers Zazzalil, earning a frown from Mom.

“Potty-mouth. Why was it so busy? Was Keeri not there?”

“Keeri was sick again,” says Zazzalil. She piles food onto her plate and adds, “Comic Con ended yesterday, too. Lots of cosplayers and other cool nerds in for bunch.”

“Awesome!” says Dad between bites of chicken.

“Anyone you recognized?” asks Mom.

“Hell yeah. There were some Disney characters you’d have loved... some anime chicks I didn’t really know... and the usual Harry Potter kids,” says Zazzalil.

“Fun. Did you handle the rush? Were you okay?”

“Mom, chill. I was fine. The regulars got their food, too.”

“Okay, baby.”

Zazzalil suddenly remembers the one thing she was supposed to tell her parents. She quickly swallows some potatoes before blurting, “There’s a girl. And she-”

“A girl!” exclaims Dad. “Finally get lucky, kiddo?”

“Oh, baby, why didn’t you tell us earlier?” asks Mom. She’s grinning.

Oh my god. “No! Mom! Dad! Not like that.”

“Aww,” says Mom. “You need to start dating again. I miss seeing that.”

 _Oh my god._ “No! I meant, there’s a girl who comes to the restaurant with the hospital staff. She wanted me to tell you personally that she loves the Blue Hat. She put it on her Instagram, too.”

“Free advertising,” says Dad. “Nice.”

“Well, Zazzalil, you’ll have to give her our thanks,” says Mom. “Are you going to bring this girl around to meet us?”

Zazzalil groans and shovels dinner into her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s 11:43am on Wednesday. The group of seven has been seated. Zazzalil gathers their usual drinks and arranges them on a tray, including Jemilla’s mug of steaming tea with honey. The kitchen smells like burnt toast- Grant’s fault. He left some bread on the edge of the stove to make a sandwich and forgot about it. Consequently, Zazzalil hasn’t been chatting with Clark or Grant much so she can avoid the stink. Keeri is still away. And, business is slower than yesterday. Today is _boring_.

Stepping out into the dining area with the tray of drinks balanced on one arm, Zazzalil tests out her latest hypothesis: she and Jemilla are making more eye contact. It’s tough to say for sure, since she wasn’t counting how often before, but today feels a little different. Something’s in the air. (Something that isn’t burnt toast stench.)

Zazzalil passes out the translucent glasses of water to each of the seven, followed by everyone’s sodas, coffee, or tea. They all give her a thank-you, and Zazzalil decides the group of seven are her favourite regulars regardless of Jemilla’s presence. They’re all so polite and happy to be here. Of course, Jemilla’s presence _is_ a bonus. She smiles the biggest out of anybody there and her eyes are the most electric. They catch each other’s gaze.

“Can I take your order?” asks Zazz, now spying the stack of closed menus on one table’s edge.

Several hospital staff begin to nod, so Zazzalil flips open her notepad and readies herself. The orders come in steadily. Jemilla is on the far edge of the four-tops, marking the exact middle of the group going counterclockwise. Zazzalil puts several hearts more than usual around the tall woman’s order, the usual soup and sandwich, because the eye contact is intense today. Jemilla is crazy confident.

Zazzalil wonders what this means.

“Okay, thanks guys. I’ll punch this into the computer and your food will be out soon,” announces Zazzalil.

She grabs the emptied drink tray and walks to the kitchen, past the long edge of the group of seven’s tables. The tray is sticky with spilled pop, so Zazzalil stops and adjusts her grip before entering the kitchen. Clark is mopping, and Grant is frying something on the stove. The smell of whatever he is cooking is replacing the stink of burnt toast, and it’s not pleasant. Garlic?

“Grant, what the fuck?” she splutters.

“Oh, hey, Zazzy,” replies Grant in a nonchalant tone.

“Grant, it stinks worse in here now,” says Zazzalil. “Like shitty dirty garlic sandwich. Just turn on the A/C!”

“It’s garlic _and parsley_. I thought it would be nice and aromantic,”

“Aromatic, not aromantic,” snorts Zazzalil, dropping off her drink tray. “Whatever. I gotta go punch in an order.”

She exits the kitchen through the front door and logs in to the Blue Hat’s system at the nearest computer. She grabs her notebook- or doesn’t. It’s not in her apron pockets. “Shit.”

She backtracks to the kitchen and scans the tiled floor. No notebook. It’s not near the tray drop-off, either. Every second without the order punched in to the computer system is a second longer her guests have to wait. Zazzalil begins to panic.

She backtracks further into the dining area through the side door, from where she originally entered the kitchen, and here, she runs face-to-face with Jemilla. They share a look- Zazzalil is surprised and confused, while Jemilla is calm and little smug- and then Jemilla breaks the awkward silence.

“Hi, Zazzalil.”

“Hey-” starts Zazz. _Wait. She knows my name from my nametag... but does she know I know her name? Is that weird?!_

“I saw you dropped your notebook here earlier,” says Jemilla, handing her the open pad of paper. She still looks smug.

“Thank you!” replies Zazzalil. Their hands touch as Jemilla hands the book over-

The book is open.

To...

A page, where clearly, Jemilla’s order is surrounded by little pencil hearts.

And clearly, Jemilla has seen this.

Zazzalil looks at the notepad in horror, and blushes a deep, deep red. All that comes out of her mouth is “Uhm.”

Jemilla’s smug smile turns into a full-on grin. “You’re welcome!”

The tall woman winks and walks away. Zazzalil is left staring at her back, speechless. It takes a solid twenty seconds before she reassembles the pieces of herself and enters the group of seven’s order into the computer system.

Zazzalil can barely make eye contact with Jemilla for the rest of the hospital staff’s visit. After the group has eaten and left, Zazzalil finds a phone number written on Jemilla’s napkin.

* * *

Even though Keeri can hardly whisper with her throat infection, Zazzalil calls her up after her shift. She sits in her parked car with the windows rolled halfway down and listens to her phone ring. A few moments go by before Keeri picks up.

“Hello?” says Keeri, hoarsely.

“You would not believe what happened at work today.”

“Oh, hi, Zazzy. Sorry I couldn’t come in.”

“No worries, I understand.”

“Okay,” croaks Keeri.

“I won’t make you talk much. But I have a story. You know Jemilla?”

“That’s the new girl, right?”

“Yeah. Well, uh, she gave me her number.”

“What!”

“Yeah! Right? But I can’t decide if I should text her right away or if I should be cool and wait a little bit.”

“Umm... you should wait.” says Keeri. “She’s probably not even off work yet.”

“Oh, you’re right. Maybe I’ll text her after supper then. But what do I even say?” wonders Zazzalil.

“It’s like Tinder. Just say ‘hey’.”

“But I feel like I should apologize, or something. She saw my notebook.”

“With the really gay hearts around her order?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, Zazzy,” says Keeri, giggling

“Shush. Okay, I’ll text her after work. Bye, love ya, and feel better soon.”

“Seeya.”

Zazzalil hangs up and drives home.

* * *

The sun is setting earlier and earlier as autumn settles onto the city. After dinner with Mom and Dad, it’s dark, and Zazzalil sits in her bedroom on a beanbag chair. Her palms are getting sweaty, but Keeri suggested she text Jemilla now, and now is better than never. Zazzalil has let her long hair down from its usual ponytail, and she plays with a strand as she texts, “Hey. It’s Zazzalil.”

It feels like sparks go off deep inside Zazzalil as she hits send. Her legs feel a bit like jelly, too. She stretches them a bit, and wiggles her toes. She’s in her pajamas, a pair of red-and-black checkered boxers and a white T-shirt. Her comfy situation should scream _comfort_ but instead it’s shouting _holy shit holy shit holy shit shit fuck. ___

__Jemilla doesn’t reply right away, so Zazzalil occupies her time snooping her Instagram again. The girl updates it a lot; there’s new pictures celebrating fall, and her Insta story is full of happy dog pictures and other scenes from her day. It looks like Jemilla lives a busy life outside of work, decides Zazzalil. Jemilla not replying to a text message right away doesn’t seem too unusual._ _

__About ten minutes later, Jemilla sends a, “Hey, you!”_ _

__Those sparks come again. Okay, now the hard part- starting a conversation without sounds like a tool. Zazzalil writes and erases the following texts:_ _

__“Sup?_ _

__“How’s it going?”_ _

__“How was your lunch today?”_ _

__“I’m so sorry about the notebook thing.”_ _

__And, “We’re flirting, right?”_ _

__Instead, she settles on, “I hope I haven’t scared you away from the Blue Hat forever.”_ _

__“Of course you haven’t! I’m charmed,” replies Jemilla._ _

__“Hahaha... good!”_ _

__“You know my name by now I’m sure.”_ _

__“Yes, Jemilla :P”_ _

__“Oh good. So tell me about yourself?”_ _

__Zazzalil stares at the screen of her phone and contemplates what exactly to write. It’s a big question, but it’s tough to come up with an answer. She sinks deeper into her beanbag and notices her own heart beating. She types away._ _

__“I’m 24 and work at my parent’s restaurant to save up for college. I’m self-motivated and have a hard time with deadlines which is why I didn’t do post-secondary right away. When I go to school, I want to do entrepreneurship- I always have ideas. I’ve lived in this city my whole life, went to River Falls High. On weekends I usually hang out with friends and go dancing.”_ _

__Jemilla replies, “I’m surprised our paths never crossed! I have lots of River Falls friends.” Then she adds, “We sound like two sides of the same coin.”_ _

__“Hahaha :) Tell me about yourself?” asks Zazzalil. _Assuming I haven’t creeped on you so much that I know everything you tell me...!__ _

__“Okay! Let’s see... I’m interning at the hospital near your work as part of medical school. I want to be a family doctor, my fam doctor been sooooo helpful with my little brother. I love being outdoors and I have a dog. We run a lot. I’ve been told I’m the bossy type haha. Also, I went to Elksholm High, if you know anyone from there. I’m 24 too so we must have graduated around the same time.”_ _

__Lots of new stuff here for Zazzalil to read. She wants to inquire about Jemilla’s little brother, but doesn’t. Not yet. She moves from the beanbag chair onto her bed, and lays on her belly while she types a reply. The full moon shines in her room. It’s so bright she could almost switch off her lamp._ _

__“Well you sound pretty cool. And I also know that you like your tea with honey, honey,” texts Zazzalil._ _

__“Thank you :D And yes I do. I’m trying to drink more tea and cut back on coffee because I have a baaaaad coffee habit.”_ _

__“I like both tea and coffee tbh. The ‘Don’t be Chai’ Cafe down the street from the Blue Hat makes such good drinks that I’ll take anything off their menu. Like 10/10 do recommend.”_ _

__“Haha wanna take me there sometime?” asks Jemilla._ _

__Zazzalil lets out the air in her body with a squeaky, drawn-out _aaaaaa!_ Jemilla keeps flustering her. How is she so confident? Zazz takes a second to freak out, rolling onto her back and flinging her arms over her eyes. A shy smile fills her face. The sparks in her core are back. She doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know she’s flushed._ _

__Before too much time passes (although Jemilla probably knows exactly what she’s doing) Zazzalil types out a faux-casual, “I’d love that. I’m off this weekend if you’re free.”_ _

__“I’m free. Gotta go but let’s figure out the details later. Bye, Zazzalil!”_ _

__“Bye :)”_ _

__Zazzalil can barely get to sleep after that._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all make my day when you kudos/comment, thank you so so much <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Zazzy’s got a date! Zazzy’s got a date!” chant Clark, Grant, and Keeri in perfect unison as Zazzalil enters the kitchen Thursday morning.

“Good morning to you too, assholes,” says Zazzalil. “How’d you find out?”

Keeri smiles. “I texted them right after you told me last night about Jemilla’s offer.”

“Keeeeeeri,” groans Zazzalil.

“You’ll have to tell us all of the hot and juicy details after it goes down, Zazzalil,” laughs Grant. He flips something on the grill, adding a sizzle to his statement.

Zazzalil shoots him an angry look that soon dissolves into a shy smile. “I’m really excited.”

“Yeah, girl! This is your first date in a while. You deserve it,” says Keeri.

The day begins. The autumn weather outside is windy, whipping leaves of reds, yellows, and oranges past the windows. Customers are undeterred by the wind, so the Blue Hat Eatery is at a steady pace for business right from opening its doors. Keeri is back, and Zazzalil can chat with her between customers. It’s a lovely mixture of events that makes the morning pass by smoothly.

Even better, the tips left on Zazzalil’s tables have been above average. She supposes she could buy a brand new outfit for her date with the extra cash. She doesn’t want to admit it, but the increase in tips is probably due to how cheerful she’s been today. Every time things get stressful, Zazzalil replays the events of this week in her head, and she’s back to being starry-eyed and smiley. Jemilla’s laugh. Jemilla’s grin. Jemilla’s confidence. They’re all magical.

Zazzalil sneaks into the kitchen at 10 to check her cell phone. She was hoping for another text from Jemilla confirming the details of their date. Keeri walks into the kitchen carrying dirty dishes behind her and giggles when she sees Zazz hunched over her phone. Zazzalil just sticks out her tongue at the taller girl. There’s no text, unfortunately, so it is Zazzalil’s hypothesis that Jemilla will leave date details on her napkin.

At 11:47pm, Jemilla and company are seated. There’s a definite vibe happening between the women, unsaid but not untouched. Eyes meet. Lips curl into smiles. Jemilla lets her ponytail down. Zazzalil decides it’s time she shows Jemilla a little bit of her own confidence.

“Hi, folks. How’s it at the hospital today?” asks Zazzalil.

“It never stops!” says an older woman, with fiery ginger hair.

“I don’t want to go back,” laughs a man with thick-rimmed glasses.

“Can’t say I want to trade places with you,” says Zazzalil. “Can I take some drink orders instead?”

The drink orders are made, and Zazzalil dutifully writes each down in her notepad. When it’s Jemilla’s turn, something out of the ordinary. She asks, “May I please get a Brisk iced tea, please?”

And actually, this is perfect. Quick on her feet, Zazzalil replies, “A sweet tea for a sweetie. Awesome.”

Jemilla snorts. She’s the last to order, so Zazzalil leaves to grab the drinks and avoid showing off her blush. Glasses are filled and coffees are poured. Clark smiles and nudges Grant when he sees Zazzalil’s red cheeks. Zazzalil notices and flips the two men off. The kitchen is hot and not helping the blush, either, so she gets the hell out of there before Clark and Grant start to tease her more.

Or, she tries.

Suddenly, in walks Zazzalil’s mom to the kitchen. She’s dressed in her formalwear, which she usually wears when she is out on official restaurant business. Normally, Mom works from home on payroll and other accounting work, so seeing her here is a surprise for Zazzalil. “Mom?”

“Hi, baby!” says Mom. “Just popping in for today. I had to grab some things from the office in the back. How are you? Busy?”

“Not too busy. Just taking some drinks to the hospital staff,” replies Zazzalil, hesistantly.

Grant interrupts with, “Hi, Mrs. F!”

“Hi, Grant!” greets Mom before turning back to Zazzalil. “Oh, the folks from the General Hospital? I should come thank them for being such wonderful patrons!”

_God no._ “Mom, that would be awkward. Please don’t,” says Zazz.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zazzalil spots Clark snickering. She shoots him a pissed look. Her mom follows her eyes to see Clark wearing a grin, and she smiles back. “Hi, Clark.”

“Hi, Mrs. F. How’s it going?”

“It’s just fine, thank you. I haven’t seen you boys in a while! Is school going well for you?” begins Mom.

Zazzalil uses this opportunity to sneak out of the kitchen, drink tray in hand. The temperature difference between the kitchen and the dining area is intense. Zazzalil hopes she isn’t sweating. She passes out the sodas and coffees to the hospital staff, who politely thank her. It’s almost habit to give Jemilla her drink last, but today’s drink isn’t a hot drink- there’s no excuse for Zazzalil to walk to the opposite end of the tables to hand her an iced tea, but she does it anyway. It works out nicely, because the women’s fingers touch ever so slightly on the outside of the glass. “Here you are.”

“Thank you, Z-”

“Good afternoon, guys and gals!”

Like she said she would, Zazzalil’s mom is at the opposite end of the tables, smiling brightly and looking as if she is preparing a speech.

Under her breath, Zazzalil murmurs a _fuuuuuck_. Jemilla hears this and quirks an eyebrow at her.

“I wanted to thank you for being such excellent customers for the Blue Hat Eatery,” announces Mom. “Your continued patronage means a lot to myself and my husband, who own this humble restaurant. We strive to serve quality food and drink in a comfortable, casual atmosphere, and I hope your daily visits mean that each and every one of you have had an excellent experience at the Blue Hat.”

It’s short and sweet. Zazzalil breathes a sigh of relief, but then-

“My daughter, your server, speaks very highly of your group when she’s at home. I hope she is doing a spectacular job at making your dining experience enjoyable!”

_Damn it._

“I love you, sweet cheeks!”

_MOM NO._

Like a bullet, Zazzalil shoots towards the kitchen, back into the sweltering heat. Keeri stands at a counter, grabbing her purse to leave for a smoke break. She pauses when her best friend enters.

“What’s up, Zazzalillian?” asks Keeri.

“Mom. Is here.”

“Here like, in the office? Or here like, out there?”

Zazzalil points to the dining area, with the other hand covering her eyes in frustration. “With the hospital group. And Jemilla.”

“Yikes,” says Keeri. She pauses. “Come outside with me?”

“I can’t,” moans Zazzalil. “I have to take their order.”

“Yikes,” repeats Keeri.

Zazzalil walks to the drink machine and fills herself a cup of water to gulp down. Then, she waits, notebook in hand, beside the kitchen door. The exact second Zazzalil’s mom re-enters the hot room, Zazz slips out past her into the dining room. Her new mission is to pretend she is unfazed by the incredible embarrassment that just occurred. As soon as she sees Jemilla’s grin, the mission fails.

“Sorry for the wait, guys,” chokes out Zazzalil, standing at the far end of the table from Jemilla. “Are you all ready for me to take your food orders?”

There are a few nods. The ginger lady says, “Your mom was sweet.”

Zazzalil laughs half-heartedly. “She’s got... character.”

The orders are taken, and the rest of the meal proceeds like normal. _So much for showing Jemilla my confidence,_ Zazzalil thinks.

At least her hypothesis is proven: Jemilla’s napkin reads, “Don’t Be Chai Cafe, 3pm Saturday. Text me if this works.”

* * *

Zazzalil gets home in the afternoon and has a cold shower. The Blue Hat kitchen was much too warm today and it feels like the heat won’t leave her alone. When she hops out of the water, she wraps herself in two towels: one for her hair and one for her body. She walks to her room and plops down into her beanbag chair, phone in hand.

“3pm Saturday works great,” she texts Jemilla.

Jemilla doesn’t reply until after 4pm, presumably when she gets off of work. “That’s great!”

In the meantime, Zazzalil checks for updates to Jemilla’s Instagram story. There are a few pics of Jemilla in her new scrubs. One set is baby blue with rubber ducks on them. The other set is a mustard yellow with black trim. Both flatter Jemilla’s features, and Zazzalil wonders if Jemilla is one of those people who could look good in a potato sack. Next on her Insta story are some pics from the hospital itself. In each, Jemilla is in a washroom mirror, looking progressively more exhausted. They’re marked off by the hour. Zazzalil laughs at how Jemilla hams up her tiredness in the photos. In the final picture from the hospital, a Boomerang, Jemilla jumps for joy and the caption reads, “Weekend!”

Then, the most recent picture is of a black background with pink cursive text. It says, “Big date this weekend!” There’s a heart emoji underneath it. Zazzalil feels sparks throughout her body. It really is a date.

Zazzalil clicks over to Jemilla’s gallery, where the woman has posted a selfie five minutes ago. It’s a mirror shot showcasing her outfit. Jemilla wears knee-high leather boots over dark denim jeans. Underneath a leather jacket, she wears a black-and-white striped shirt. The whole outfit is accented by a dark pink infinity scarf. 

“Fucking wow,” whispers Zazzalil aloud. _She looks like a model._

The selfie is captioned “#datewear” and suddenly, Zazzalil realizes she hasn’t thought of an outfit for Saturday yet. She springs to action. A large portion of her wardrobe lays on her floor, dirty. Zazzalil separates the clothing and runs some down to the laundry room. She returns and begins rifling through her closet. This cardigan, that cardigan, or maybe this sweater...

It takes her literal hours, but the laundry is eventually finished and Zazzalil decides on her outfit. It has black leggings underneath a denim skirt, with a plain white tee and a grey cardigan on top. She also chooses a cute choker and a few rings to wear. The effect of the outfit is supposed to be faux-casual- as if it were something Zazzalil would wear any day of the week, when really, it’s a bit more fancy than she’d normally pick. She hopes Jemilla will be impressed.

Zazzalil realizes she could try something non-restaurant related to show Jemilla her own confidence. She sneaks across the hallway to her parents’ room and snaps a pic of her outfit in the full-length mirror. She sends it to Jemilla with a caption saying, “Can never be too prepared... here’s what I’m wearing Saturday! :)”

Jemilla replies within the minute. “You look great! Now I know what you look like when you aren’t in plain black and wearing an apron hahaha!”

It’s true, Zazzalil realizes- she looks the same every day at work. “I can be cute, see?”

“I never said you weren’t cute at work too, gosh :P” texts Jemilla.

Zazzalil snorts. Somehow, Jemilla can say that kind of stuff without sounding like a fuckboy. Zazz types, “You wear scrubs every day so you have a uniform too lol.”

“And don’t I look adorable in them?”

_How do I answer that?!_ “Yup haha! My favourite so far is the one with the polka-dots.”

“I’m glad you noticed :) So is this the part where I show you what I wear outside of work?!”

“Sure!”

“I’m in a jacuzzi tub right now sooooo I’ll have to send you a different pic :P one sec.”

_Aaaaaaa!_

A moment later, Jemilla sends a photo of herself that Zazzalil hadn’t seen on her Instagram. In the picture is Jemilla, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a puffy vest on top, posing next to her German Shepherd. The two of them are in some city park, with fall colours accenting the background. The outfit isn’t particularly fancy, but the image is obviously professionally taken- Zazzalil is impressed. She texts, “The pic looks like something you’d see in a magazine, daaamn.”

“My photographer friend needed a model and I said I’d help if I could bring my pup heheh. Do you like dogs?”

Zazzalil deliberates. “To be honest I’m equally a cat and dog person.”

“That’s cool! I prefer dogs but kitties are sweet too.”

* * *

Their conversation continues for hours, wherein the women learn more about one another, exchange pictures, and flirt a bit obnoxiously. Zazzalil falls asleep with a smile on her face, and wakes to Friday. Zazzalil’s eagerness for the date seems to make time speed by. Soon, it’s Saturday- the day of the date.


	5. Chapter 5

When Zazzalil walks in to Don’t Be Chai Cafe and takes a seat near the door, it finally solidifies in Zazzalil’s mind that she’s not going to be serving Jemilla a drink- they’re getting a drink _together_. It hadn’t quite seemed real until just now.

Zazzalil scans the room again to be sure Jemilla isn’t waiting for her at another table. No. She sits, one leg crossed over the other, and fiddles with her cell phone. She’s just a touch early to the date at two minutes to 3pm. For some reason, Zazzalil assumed Jemilla was the ten-minutes-early type, but she’s kind of relieved that isn’t the case. She didn’t want to make Jemilla wait.

Don’t Be Chai is not busy at this time of day. Without the crowd, it’s easy to see the amazing art hanging on the latte-coloured walls: paintings, sketches, 3D art, and some pieces that defy categorization. On the other side of the room is the main counter and barista’s workstation, plus an open-concept cooled shelving unit for sandwiches and baked goods. Zazzalil spies a slice of apple pie and her stomach rumbles. She knows what she’s ordering!

At exactly 3pm, Jemilla walks in to Don’t Be Chai and pulls off her sunglasses. As Zazzalil anticipated, Jemilla looks even cuter in her outfit than she did in her selfie. Zazz tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear before raising a hand to wave Jemilla over. Zazzalil sits at a two-top on the raised part of the cafe floor, so Jemilla spots her quickly and gracefully walks over.

“Hello, Zazzalil!” says Jemilla.

“Hi, Jemilla,” says Zazzalil. “Let’s get in line?”

“Sure.” She smiles, and asks, “How are you?”

“I’m... good,” replies Zazzalil, walking up to the main counter, Jemilla by her side. “Excited, actually, that it’s my weekend. As much as I love the Blue Hat, I’m usually ready to die by Friday.”

Jemilla’s laugh is melodious. “I feel the same about my weeks at the hospital.”

Zazzalil giggles at that. She orders herself a chai latte and a slice of apple pie. Jemilla orders a medium roast coffee and a slice of apple pie, too. When Jemilla tries to pay for their orders, Zazzalil insists she does, instead.

“Half of my tip money is probably from serving the hospital staff, anyway.” she explains.

Jemilla lets her, hesitantly.

The two return to their table with their pie. Jemilla takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of her chair along with her purse. Zazzalil, meanwhile, takes a bite of the gooey and delicious apple pie. The sun shines onto their table through the window, interrupted by the occasional cloud. No new customers have walked in since Jemilla, making for a quiet cafe.

Jemilla breaks the silence. “I swear, you’re the first waitress I’ve ever hit on. I’m surprised it worked.”

Zazzalil swallows her bite of pie a bit too suddenly. “Most customers who hit on me are gross older dudes. You’re the first not-a-dude customer to hit on me, actually. No sweat.”

“Oh, really?”

“Old men are horndogs and I hate it.” comments Zazzalil.

“I get that. Working in the hospital... some of these old guys are halfway to dead and they still try to flirt with me,” exclaims Jemilla.

“Yikes.”

The women are called up to the counter for their drinks. Jemilla springs up and retrieves them, carefully placing the chai latte in front of Zazzalil when she returns. Zazzalil can’t help but smile.

“You’re almost as good at that as I am,” she says.

“Why, thank you!” jokes Jemilla.

They’re all smiles. It feels natural to be talking to Jemilla as an equal after so much time observing her in the restaurant, not to mention the texting they’ve been doing. After a sip of chai latte, Zazzalil twirls the end of her side-braid, and says, “Tell me more about yourself. You said you had a little brother?”

“I do have a little brother. He’s twelve. He’s a good kid. He had cancer a few years back. Leukemia.”

 _Of course THIS is the topic I bring up._ “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. His doctors are the reason I want to be a doctor. And the hospital is the reason we moved to this city, too.”

“When did you move?”

“Halfway through high school,” says Jemilla. “Maybe that’s why we never met before.”

“Could be,” replies Zazzalil. “Actually, I have a confession. I found your Facebook and we have some mutual friends.”

“No way. Who?”

“Tiblyn S. and Emberly E.,” says Zazzalil. “Emberly’s boyfriend is actually one of my childhood friends, and he cooks at the Blue Hat.”

“Small world! I know Tiblyn from rec volleyball and I met Emberly at a party last year. Did you go to high school with them?”

“Yeah, I did. We keep in touch a little bit.”

“Nice,” says Jemilla. She pauses to take a bite of her pie and a sip of her coffee. “So, is it just you and your parents? Your mom was sweet, by the way.”

“I just about died on Thursday when she gave you all that speech. Like, holy shit,” laughs Zazzalil. “But yes, just me, Mom, and Dad.”

“It really wasn’t that bad, c’mon,” says Jemilla with a grin.

“Totally was. Mom has no filter and Dad just eggs her on.”

“I thought the ‘sweet-cheeks’ was cute, at least!” says Jemilla. “You look like a sweet-cheeks. Or maybe a sunshine. Or a honey-bun.”

Jemilla pointedly makes eye contact with Zazzalil, but Zazzalil has to look away and blush. _This girl’s confidence will make me melt, I swear,_ thinks Zazz. She says, “Speaking of, I think we’ve made that ‘honey, honey’ joke so many times that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. I’m trying to work on some new content.”

“I look forward to it.”

Their chatter continues until their drinks get cold and the pie is all gone. Jemilla and Zazzalil find themselves getting on swimmingly despite being two very different people. Jemilla tells a story about getting lost when she first moved to the city that leaves Zazzalil in stitches. Zazzalil returns the favour and shares a tale of The Worst Party Ever (spoiler: Zazzalil can’t handle tequila, ever, at all), and Jemilla laughs so hard she cries off a little mascara and has to fix it in the bathroom. Other stories are traded, and soon the sun has begun to set: its orange light makes Jemilla’s auburn hair glow, and Zazzalil can’t help but admire her beauty.

“You know, Jemilla, you’re probably the prettiest girl that’s ever walked into the Blue Hat,” confesses Zazzalil. “It’s pretty lucky that you like girls, too.”

“Oh, jeez,” mutters Jemilla. Mission accomplished: now she’s the one blushing. It almost matches the pink of her scarf, into which she’s buried her face.

Score one for Zazzalil. Jemilla is blushing _and_ speechless. Zazzalil sits and basks in her own glory until Jemilla breaks the silence.

“Let’s go for a walk?” she suggests. “I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“Sure.”

They grab their jackets and purses and walk out the front door into the cold autumn evening. Jemilla is a fast walker and Zazzalil tries her best to match the pace. Leaves littered on the ground crunch underneath their boots. The world has an orangish pink glow, highlighting each individual tree as they enter the nearby park. Zazzalil watches as Jemilla takes a deep breath, as if she were trying to absorb the essence of autumn itself. This girl really loves the outdoors.

“How are you feeling?” says Jemilla.

“I’m content,” replies Zazzalil, honestly. “Today’s been great.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“And how are you feeling?” asks Zazz.

“It’s a bit chilly, but it’s nice,” says Jemilla. “And I’m content, too. I feel refreshed, now having talked to you for real. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” agrees Zazzalil.

The two approach a fountain in the centre of the park. Jemilla hurries forward. Despite the time of year, the fountain hasn’t yet been drained. The water within flows slowly, steadily. Jemilla sits on the edge of the fountain and dips her fingers into the pool of water at its base. Zazzalil takes a seat next to her, careful to maintain a little distance between them.

“Have you been here before?” asks Jemilla.

“Probably a few times.”

“I used to come here a lot when I was younger- when my brother was in the hospital. We’re pretty close to there right now.”

“And to the Blue Hat,” Zazzalil points out.

“Will I see you there on Monday?”

“As usual!” groans Zazzalil. “But it’s too early in the weekend to think about work again.”

“You said you were saving up for school?” probes Jemilla.

“Yeah. I’m trying to save up at least two years tuition, and my parents offered to pay for the rest.”

“For entrepreneurship, right?” says Jemilla, and Zazzalil nods. Jemilla continues and adds, “I think that’s really cool- starting a business based on your own original ideas.”

“I’ve always been wanting to do my own thing. Sucks that I suck at certain school things, unlike _you_ , Ms. Med Student.”

“I like the comfort of routine, and school is a great routine!” Jemilla sticks out her tongue. Zazzalil sticks hers out right back.

“Hey, Zazzalil?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to kiss you right now, but I don’t think I’m ready,” confesses Jemilla. “So I won’t. Is that okay?”

“You- uh- uhm,” splutters Zazzalil. “That’s okay. Yeah.”

“Okay. Thank you,” says Jemilla. She reaches forward to grab one of Zazzalil’s hands and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Walk me to the bus stop?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They stand and walk back towards Don’t Be Chai. Then, it’s another block to the bus stop. A sliver of the moon appears in the sky, with a few stars scattered nearby. Zazzalil notices Jemilla is suddenly quite quiet after the kissing comment. There’s still chitchat, but it feels forced. Zazzalil manages to get one more laugh out of Jemilla before she boards the bus, at least.

“Let’s do this again, okay?” says Jemilla as the bus turns the corner and approaches.

“I’d love that, Jemilla.”

“Okay. Text me, Zazzalil!”

And the date is over.


	6. Chapter 6

The second she gets home and comfortable in her pajamas, Zazzalil phones Keeri to spill the beans about her date with Jemilla. She launches herself onto her bed as the phone rings and wraps herself into a blanket burrito. Her fluffy teddy bear is knocked onto the floor. Zazzalil is so full of happy vibes that it’s hard to relax.

“Hello?” Keeri picks up on the third ring.

“Keeri! Hey!”

“Hi, Zazzy. What’s up?”

“I just got home from the big date.”

“Girl, tell me everything.”

And so Zazzalil rambles on for a couple of minutes, eagerly recalling how everything played out. How Jemilla was everything she expected and more, how Jemilla looked so stunning, how Jemilla laughed at her stories... and how Jemilla wanted to kiss her.

“What do you mean, wanted to?” asks Keeri.

“Like, she said she wanted to kiss me, but she wasn’t ready,” says Zazzalil. “I guess?”

“Huh,” replies Keeri. “That’s kind of weird. She should have just gone for it.”

“Maybe. I mean, I would have liked it.”

“Duh.”

“But she seemed really... upset with herself for it? Or something.”

“What?”

“God, I don’t know, Keeri,” sighs Zazzalil. “I’ll think about it a bit more. Maybe I’ll text her. But I’m not mad, I totally respect her space. Maybe it was something I did.”

“Maybe your breath stank, Zazz,” giggles Keeri.

“Fuck off!”

“So are we still going shopping tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll text you later, okay?’

“Okay, seeya.” Keeri hangs up.

Zazzalil is left in her blanket burrito with her phone in hand. She deliberates for a moment, then shoots off a text to Jemilla. It reads, “I had a great time and I hope you did, too.” Just then, Zazzalil’s mom calls from downstairs that dinner is ready.  
Hamburgers (mmm) and salad (meh) are on tonight’s menu. Zazzalil sits down at the table, across from her dad, and dishes herself out some grub. Her parents are engaged in conversation about accounting and business matters, and remain distracted for a few minutes until Dad starts in on his meal. There are a few minutes of silent, happy eating. Then, Zazzalil’s mom turns to her daughter.

“How was your date, baby?”

_Wow, Mom wastes_ no _time in asking what’s on her mind._

“It was fine, Mom,” answers Zazzalil. “How did you even know I had a date?”

“Easy.” Zazzalil’s mom claps the tongs twice and then serves herself some salad. “You did your laundry at light-speed, Zazz. You haven’t done that since you and Keeri went out in high school.”

“Oh my god, that was years ago, Mom. Even Keeri and I don’t bring it up anymore... and I’ve had dates since then!” blurts Zazzalil.

Zazzalil’s dad snorts and takes a bite out of his hamburger. Zazz gives him a side-eye.

“Well, anyways, I hope the guy or girl you went out with was good to you,” says Mom.

“She was. She was really great,” says Zazzalil.

Mom makes an _ooo_ noise. “Is this the same girl that wanted us to hear about how much she loves the Blue Hat?”

_Mom, what the fuck? How did you figure that out?_ thinks Zazzalil. Aloud, she just says “Yes...”

“I knew it!” squeals Zazzalil’s mom. “She has lovely manners, then. I’m so happy for you, sweetie.”

Zazzalil shoves her hamburger into her mouth. When she goes to her bedroom after supper, she finds a reply text from Jemilla: “I promise I had a lovely time.”

* * *

The mall is crowded on Sunday. People bustle in and out of the shops, form lines at the various fast food joints, and loiter around art installations. Both levels of the mall echo with chatter and footsteps. Keeri is on a mission to find a dress here to wear to her boyfriend’s convocation. She’s so determined that she almost seems to be able to ignore the crowds. Zazzalil is impressed.

“It has to be blue to match his convocation gown,” explains Keeri. “Baby blue, not sapphire. Form-fitting, maybe a wrap-style and not a poofy- Zazzalil, pay attention.”

“I am! I am,” says Zazzalil. She’s stuck to her cell phone again- checking Jemilla’s Instagram for updates.

“This new crush thing is like when you think of a new entrepreneurship idea,” says Keeri. “You’re one-track-minded, Zazz.”

“Thanks, mom,” snorts Zazzalil, even though she knows Keeri is right- she is incredibly prone to tunnel vision. This is different, though. The weird end to the date with Jemilla is bugging her. She’s caught between a rock and a hard place: if she asks Jemilla about it, things might get weirder; if she ignores it, it might bug her until her next date with Jemilla.

“Just ask her out on a second date and talk about it there, girl,” comments Keeri as she enters yet another dress boutique. “Unless you don’t want to go out with her again.”

“I do!” exclaims Zazzalil, a little too loud. Oops. She mumbles, “Uh, I do,” to a laughing Keeri.

“Why don’t you just do it now while I look for dresses?”

Zazzalil follows her best friend into the dress shop. The walls are lined with racks, and each rack is bursting with gowns of every colour. Surely they’d find something here. Zazzalil heads to the benches near the change rooms, assuming that Keeri will end up there soon. Her phone displays the text conversation with Jemilla.

Zazzalil types and erases the following:

“So, can I take you out for dinner and a show? (I’m the show),”

And, “I bet I can eat more frozen yogurt than you,”

And, “I have a hell of an employee discount at the Blue Hat, just sayin’.”

None are quite good enough. Zazzalil just wants to sit down somewhere and chat and maybe eat something delicious with Jemilla. Instead, she gave herself a froyo craving.

Keeri arrives at the change room with three blue dresses to try on. She gets to work, in and out of the privacy stall in mere moments. All of the dresses look like something a cougar might wear to Vegas. Zazzalil tries to be as honest as possible- “For real, I hate all of them,”- and Keeri tries not to throttle her best friend- “Maybe if you helped me look for a gown, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

So Zazzalil finally puts away her cell phone and attempts to get into a dress shopping mood. The women discard the three previous dresses and split up to find new ones. Zazzalil covers one half of the store, and Keeri the other; after a half-hour, they meet in the middle with seven blue dresses between them. Keeri gives each dress a test run, and voila, one of Zazzalil’s picks is the clear winner. It’s a strapless piece with silver sequin accents. The dress is ankle-length and overall gorgeous. It’s classy, most of all.

“I love it,” squeals Keeri. “Thank you, Zazz.”

The price tag is formidable, so Keeri closes her eyes as she swipes her credit card. “That way, it’s like it doesn’t count,” she tells Zazzalil. The two exit the dress shop and walk to the second level’s food court for lunch. Zazzalil buys a chicken pita and Keeri buys a tofu rice bowl. The crowds are still heavy, but the women manage to find a free table in the centre of the food court.

“Eww, tofu,” comments Zazzalil when Keeri sits down with her rice bowl.

“It’s delicious, Zazz,” replies Keeri. “Have you ever even tried tofu?”

“Nope. Don’t need to try it to know it’s gross.”

“Listen, I love animals too much to eat them. You know that.”

“I _also_ know that tofu is gross. See, I’m a genius.”

Keeri rolls her eyes and Zazzalil laughs loudly. The two dig into their food. The crowds still haven’t begun to thin out. Every once in a while, somebody Zazzalil or Keeri knows will walk by and the women will point them out to one another. That is, until a familiar head of auburn walks by.

“Holy shit!” squeaks Zazzalil. “Jemilla is here.”

“Where?” asks Keeri. Zazzalil points her out, now standing in line at a submarine sandwich shop.

“I haven’t texted her yet today,” admits Zazzalil.

“You said you were going to do that while we were dress shopping.”

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t find the right thing to say.”

“Zazzy!”

The women watch as Jemilla orders herself a sandwich, and follows the food down the assembly line. She’s been shopping, judging by the several plastic bags she carries. She’s wearing a knee-length patterned skirt today with a tight black shirt and a jean jacket on top. Zazzalil settles an elbow onto the table and puts her chin into her hands. _Jemilla is so cute._

When her meal is ready, Jemilla grabs the to-go bag and turns to scan the food court for an open seat.

“Oh shitballs!” exclaims Zazzalil. “She can’t see me. Um- switch sides with me.”

“What?” says Keeri.

“So my back is to wherever she sits. Quick!”

Keeri, ever so used to dealing with Zazzalil’s schemes, just goes along with the switch. They trade places at their table. Zazzalil sneaks a bite of tofu stir-fry before their meals are switched, too. It’s not actually half bad. Keeri just smirks at her friend.

“Okay. Now we gotta watch and wait,” explains Zazzalil.

“What?” says Keeri, again.

“I want to follow her.”

“Wha- you know, I’m not even going to say what,” groans Keeri. “This is a creepy, bad idea, girl.”

“No, it’s not,” says Zazzalil. “...Okay, maybe it is. But I just want to, you know, figure out what she likes. Maybe I’ll get a date idea from that.”

“Oh my god,” says Keeri, before taking a long drink of her pop. “Okay, I’ll help, but only because you found me this awesome dress.”

Zazzalil pumps a fist. “Nice.”

The women wait until Jemilla is finished her sub sandwich, when she throws her waste into the garbage. They stand and follow her from this point. First, Jemilla strolls into a fragrance shop- one of those places full of scented bath soaps, candles, and lotions. She spends about ten minutes in there and doesn’t buy anything. In the meantime, Zazzalil guesses what Jemilla’s favourite scents are based on what Jemilla takes the time to sniff. It’s either vanilla-brown sugar or cucumber-melon, Zazzalil deduces.

After the fragrance store, Jemilla walks into a greeting card shop. She beelines to the “Birthday for Him” section, so Zazzalil decides it must be her little brother’s birthday. The cards Jemilla picks up are all of the funny variety. Some play music when you open them, while others have pop-out features. Jemilla settles for a birthday card with neither of those things, but instead one covered in cartoon dogs. Zazzalil figures Jemilla’s brother likes dogs just as Jemilla does.

The final store Jemilla heads into is an electronics store. She spends a lot of time here browsing video games. A birthday present to go along with the birthday card, determines Zazzalil. Jemilla looks adorable with her thinking face on, as if she has to pick the perfect game. She settles on one that looks kind of badass- a Japanese RPG game, with its cast of characters posing on its front.

Jemilla pays and exits the store, still blissfully unaware of her audience of Keeri and Zazzalil. She then strolls to the parkade, apparently finished shopping. Keeri turns to Zazzalil and asks, “Are you happy?”

“I’m gonna blow her mind on cool things to talk about tonight.”

* * *

“Hey, Jemilla,” texts Zazzalil that evening.

“Hi :)” reads the reply.

“How are things?”

“Things are good! I blew a bunch of money at the mall today, it was great.”

“Do tell!”

“Bought a few new outfits and a video game. Can’t go wrong!”

“Oh, haha nice,” writes Zazzalil. “A game for your little bro?”

“Nope, for me. I enjoy a good game now and then :)”

_Oops #1._ “Cool, me too. Never gonna grow out of it.”

“Same here,” replies Jemilla. “My dad got me into gaming as a kid. It’s his birthday today, actually. We just finished his birthday supper and board games. I got him the cutest card.”

_Oops #2._ “Happy birthday to him! Hey I have a random question?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s your favourite scent?”

“Haha umm probably jasmine.”

_Oops #3. Damn it._ “Mine is fruity and flowery stuff lol.”

“Mmm, that sounds good too.”

Zazzalil is typing a reply when Jemilla sends her another text: “Soooooo, wanna take me out for dinner this week? :P”

“Yeah, absolutely :D”

Zazzalil sinks down deeper in her beanbag chair, relieved that everything worked out in the end. She adds, “You pick the restaurant. I don’t think I’ve figured you out quite yet, Jemilla P.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of filler, but y'all like filler right? <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's ready for something spicy?!

Jemilla picked a fancy-ass restaurant.

Zazzalil decides this when she peeks in the window of Roxie’s and sees the tables, decorated with tablecloths, wine glasses at the ready, and flickering candles. It’s just before 7pm, so the restaurant is at its peak crowdedness for the evening. Somewhere inside is a table that Jemilla reserved for them, but Zazzalil can’t see it. Oh god.

Tonight, Zazzalil wears her cutest cocktail dress. It has a dark cream top, loose-fitting with a not-too-deep V-neck, and a form-fitting black skirt that goes down to her knees. She carries a black clutch. She and Jemilla had mutually decided to dress up for their date, and Zazzalil can’t wait to see what Jemilla is wearing. Still, Zazzalil feels a tad insecure about her own appearance.

The sun and moon are already trading their reign in the sky. A few stars speckle above. Dusk chills the world. A cool breeze whips around Zazzalil’s ankles.

At 7pm exactly, Jemilla shows up to the date. Zazzalil goes a little week at the knees. Jemilla wears a tight black cocktail dress with white trim and accents, covering down to her mid thigh. It covers her chest to wrap around her neck. She also carries a black clutch.

What first goes through Zazzalil’s little gay head is _Holy shit, she has amazing legs for daaaaays._

Second, _Say hello, dumbass!_

“Hey, Jemilla,” says Zazzalil, weakly.

“Hi, Zazzy. Ready to go?” greets Jemilla.

Together, they walk into Roxie’s. The hostess cheerily leads them to their table, which is in a quieter part of the restaurant, towards the back. Right away, she offers the ladies wine.

“A bottle of white, please,” says Jemilla.

“I’ll have the- uh, yes,” says Zazzalil.

Zazzalil blushes. Her and Jemilla share a smile. The hostess leaves to fetch them a bottle, leaving the two time to chat.

“What’s new, Jemilla?” asks Zazzalil.

“Not much, actually,” she replies. “I already told you about my dad’s birthday. Let’s see... my running group is disbanding for the winter soon. I’m pretty bummed about that. But winter hiking with my dog will be fun, so that’s something to look forward to.”

“Hiking sounds like fun!” comments Zazzalil. “Can’t relate on the running thing, though. The only thing I run for-- is the door when my Mom tries to have a heart-to-heart.”

Jemilla snorts. “Oh jeez!”

Zazzalil’s happy to have gotten a laugh out of Jemilla. She holds up a menu and says, “Shall we?”

“Yes, please. I’m starving.”

As they peruse the restaurant offerings, the hostess returns with their bottle of white. A glass is poured for each of them. Jemilla takes a sip of hers, while Zazzalil takes more of a gulp. The hostess informs the women that their server will be with them soon, then leaves.

“Oh god, they have a ton of pasta her,” groans Zazzalil. “I’m so ready.”

Jemilla giggles at her. She looks at the menu for a few minutes, then looks up at Zazzalil sheepishly. “I kind of just want a soup and sandwich, if you can believe it.”

“What!” exclaims Zazzalil. “You get that every day at the Blue Hat. Don’t you get sick of it?”

“It feels safe,” explains Jemilla. “Can’t go wrong with soup and a sandwich.”

“I guess not! But I’m telling you, the pasta looks tres perfecto,” says Zazzalil. She kisses her fingertips.

“That’s definitely not French, Zazzalil,” laughs Jemilla.

Zazzalil drinks more of her wine. Today’s date feels a little more relaxed- that shy edge between the two has dulled. Zazzalil is certainly more comfortable being herself in front of Jemilla.

“Okay, I’ll try a pasta dish,” says Jemilla after a few more moments of browsing the menu.

Zazzalil pumps a fist. With perfect timing, the server approaches their table and asks for their order.

“The chicken penne alfredo, please,” states Zazzalil.

“The same for me,” says Jemilla, taking a sip of wine.

The server scribbles their order down on his notepad and leaves. There’s a moment of quiet between the women. Zazzalil and Jemilla simply make eye contact and smile. Zazzalil is the first to look away and the first to break the silence.

“I’m having a hard time not playing with these candles.” She gestures to the three in the centre of the table. Each is made of white wax, and each sits in a silver, metallic container. By this point, small pools of molten max are appearing at the bottom of the containers.

“Are you a pyromaniac, Zazzy?” laughs Jemilla.

“Maybe so.”

“There are certainly worse things to be.”

“Like what?”

Jemilla drinks her wine. She’s nearing the end of her first glass. “Gay, of course.” She says this with a grin.

“Oh no! Guilty as charged!” giggles Zazzalil.

“Uh oh, me too,” says Jemilla.

A conversation starter pops into Zazzalil’s mind. “How long have you been out, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jemilla looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. “At some point in high school, I decided that I am who I am and I wasn’t afraid to embrace a label anymore. Actually, I find comfort in labels. What about you?”

“High school, too,” says Zazzalil. “One day, I just started dating Keeri, and that was that.”

“Wait, the other Blue Hat server?”

“Oh!” Zazzalil realizes her admission. “Yeah, that Keeri. So weird to think about.”

“I would never have guessed.”

“Like I said, weird to think about. She’s really happy with her boyfriend now.”

“Well, that’s nice,” says Jemilla. “The last person I dated was a girl named Shelby, and that ended badly.”

“Do you date guys, too?” asks Zazzalil.

“Unfortunately.” Jemilla rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I do,” replies Zazzalil, sticking out her tongue.

Another moment of silence, and Zazzalil can’t hold in her next question.

“Am I the only person you’re seeing right now?”

Jemilla gives her a shy smile with her perfect red lips. “Yes.”

“I was just wondering,” mumbles Zazzalil, with a smile just as shy.

They both take long drinks of their wine. Jemilla finishes her glass, and Zazzalil pours her another after topping up her own. The women settle in to a long conversation; Jemilla shares stories of her adventures- and misadventures- at the hospital, and Zazzalil tells of her favourite memories working at the Blue Hat. Zazzalil even admits to her long-standing crush on Jemilla before the two had officially spoken.

The food takes a while to arrive. When it does, it’s delicious, but the meals don’t stop the women’s chatter. Zazzalil has plenty of questions to ask Jemilla about herself, and Jemilla is happy to indulge. Meanwhile, the two drink themselves through a first bottle of wine. Jemilla orders a second, a red this time.

“How are you getting home tonight?” asks Zazzalil, a little concerned.

“I have an Uber who owes me a favour,” replies Jemilla. She winks and takes her first sip of the red.

“Cool. Because I can’t offer you a ride,” says Zazzalil. “My mom insisted my dad drive me back tonight, and I would rather die than make you meet my parents tonight.”

“Embarrassed of me?” jokes Jemilla.

“No!” says Zazzalil loudly. “I just think my dad would be jealous I’m going out with such a cutie.”

_Oh damn, that was the wine._

“I’m flattered.”

Zazzalil finishes her chicken alfredo first. Jemilla takes a while longer, so Zazzalil looks at the dessert menu. There are the standard desserts at Roxie’s, like cheesecake or chocolate lava cake, and then there are the more extravagant desserts, like the layered brownie dish or the deep-fried bananas and cream. Zazzalil just ate supper, but her tummy growls anyways.

“If you still have room, I have a sweet-tooth that needs satisfying,” she says.

Jemilla replies, “I always satisfy.” There’s a look in her eye that makes Zazzalil a little weak.

“Ah- okay.”

She waits for the sever to come around once more. Jemilla finishes her food along with a glass of red. Before Zazzalil can offer, Jemilla pours herself another. They sip and talk about deeper topics than previously- the afterlife, politics, women’s rights, and whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

“Anything can go on pizza. It’s _pizza_. That’s the joy of it,” argues Zazzalil.

“Pineapple is much too sweet to go on pizza. It’s a tropical fruit. Eating it with tomato sauce and dough is kind of an abomination,” is Jemilla’s rebuttal.

This leads them to list other foods that would be an abomination on pizza, like cereal or soy sauce, and it gets them giggling. The waiter never comes around, which peeves Zazzalil. She manages to keep her mouth shut. They’re having a great time anyways.

“Zazzalil,” says Jemilla. “I need to go to the washroom. Will you accompany me?”

“I- um,” stutters Zazzalil. “Yeah, sure.”

They leave their clutches on the table to show that they haven’t dined and dashed. The restaurant hums with people enjoying drinks and food. A cheer erupts from the bar area- evidently, they are playing the big football game on their televisions. Jemilla leads Zazzy to the back corner of the restaurant, where a wooden sign with “BATH” burnt into it indicates the washrooms. They enter into the quiet room, alone-

Suddenly, Jemilla is grabbing Zazzalil, pulling her towards her, into a deep kiss. Jemilla’s lips are soft and her manner is needy. She tastes like the wine they’ve been working on all night. Zazzalil is surprised, but kisses back, gently at first, then more pleading. Somehow, Jemilla leads them into a bathroom stall and locks the door behind them. The make-out is more intense than anything Zazzalil has experienced.

“Is this okay?” asks Jemilla during a pause.

“Yes.”

They resume kissing. Jemilla’s hand is tangled in Zazzalil’s long brown hair, her other hand on Zazzalil’s lower back. Zazzalil tries to match Jemilla’s fervor, both arms slung over Jemilla’s shoulders. Jemilla is kissing her neck and jaw. The heat between them is palpable; Zazzalil feels sweat running down her back. Jemilla moves back to Zazzalil’s lips, kissing and sucking for some time. Then, Jemilla’s tongue is suddenly in Zazzalil’s mouth. Zazzalil lets out a happy hum. Jemilla’s hand wanders down to grab her ass.

Someone enters the bathroom and they both pause and hold their bodies close. Zazzalil is sure Jemilla has a great view of her breasts at this angle. If Zazz wasn’t already flushed, she would blush. The stranger in the washroom finishes their business and leaves, and Jemilla is immediately back at it as soon as the doors close. Zazzalil loves this woman’s enthusiasm.

But then.

But then Jemilla stumbles and Zazzalil has to steady her. Jemilla tries to kiss Zazzalil again.

“Jemilla.”

“Mm?”

“You’re too drunk.”

“What?”

“Let’s stop. You drank too much.”

Jemilla slowly, slowly peels herself away from Zazzalil. Her face is a deep pink and her lipstick is smeared. She looks... genuinely surprised. She mumbles, “Okay,” and exits the bathroom stall. Zazzalil is right behind her, keeping one hand on her back to ensure she’s steady. Jemilla walks to the sinks and checks her makeup in the large mirror.

Zazzalil washes her hands, then says, “I’m going to see if the waiter brought us the bill.”

“Okay.”

The air in the dining area of Roxie’s seems ten degrees cooler than in the washroom. Zazzalil is self-conscious, knowing she’s red and sweaty, so she hustles to the table. The bill is there, and the waiter walks by at the perfect time. Zazzalil charges the expensive meal to her credit card. As she hands off the payment machine to the waiter, Jemilla arrives and sits down across from Zazzalil. There’s a moment where the waiter looks between the two women, connects the dots, then smiles and walks away. Jemilla is oblivious, but Zazzalil feels like she could disappear. (She’ll admit, she’s kind of proud, too.)

“Let’s get dessert another time, Jemilla,” says Zazzalil.

“Yes, please,” she replies. It’s hard to read her emotions right now. She swallows the last of her glass of wine. “That was dessert for me.”

Zazzalil laughs. Both of the women simultaneously pick up their phones and text their rides. Jemilla finds her Uber will be there in five minutes, so Zazzalil escorts her to the front of Roxie’s. The cold night presses in as the door shuts behind them. The moon offers little light, so the women stand together under a streetlamp.

“I had fun,” says Zazzalil. “That was my first time doing... that.”

Jemilla snorts, but she suddenly looks sad. “Mine as well, to be honest.”

“You’re a pro already.”

A car driven by a long-haired woman pulls up. Jemilla turns to Zazzalil, placing one hand on each of the shorter woman’s shoulders. The sadness hasn’t quite left her face. She leans in and kisses Zazzalil on the cheek.

“Thank you for everything,” whispers Jemilla.

“Of course,” says Zazzalil.

Jemilla steps away and opens the passenger side door. For just a second, Zazzalil sees that it’s Tiblyn in the driver’s seat, and the two make eye contact. Tiblyn looks shocked. Then the moment is over when Jemilla shuts the car door and waves through the window. Zazzalil waves back. It’s going to be _so_ awkward when Tiblyn texts her.

Zazzalil’s dad pulls up five minutes after that. Date number two is over.


	8. Chapter 8

“Girl, the fuck!” texts Tiblyn. “You’re dating Jemilla?”

“Um. Yes?” replies Zazzalil.

“This city is so damn small.”

It’s the next morning, a Thursday, and Zazzalil is still laying in bed. She woke up feeling sick- probably from the wine- and had to let Keeri know she was going to be a few hours late. Apparently, this also means Tiblyn has time to chew Zazzalil out.

Tiblyn sends a longer text. “Shit, Zazzalil. This is so unexpected. For so many reasons! But maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. You like girls, she likes girls. I guess the dating pool is really small. And also, she’s a total smokeshow. Even I’d date her, and my taste in girls usually sucks. No, but seriously, how did this even happen?”

Zazzalil summarizes her and Jemilla’s meeting at the Blue Hat Eatery to Tiblyn. The crush, the flirting, the notes on the napkins... it’s all very recent and comes back to Zazzalil easily. She gets butterflies in her stomach thinking about it. Zazzalil wonders just how much she’s fallen for the brilliant woman that is Jemilla. Tiblyn’s reply, though, squashes the good feelings.

“That’s super cute, but... like, she promised me the date went great, but then why was she such a sad sack in the car on the way home?”

“I don’t know,” confesses Zazzalil. “I’m confused, too.”

“What happened?” asks Tiblyn.

Hesitantly, Zazzalil details the wine-drinking and the washroom make-out session, and how she stopped things when she noticed Jemilla was more drunk than expected. The memory is coloured with such mixed feelings that Zazzalil has to stop in the middle of typing and grab a glass of water, just to pause and collect her thoughts. Or maybe to cool herself down. That was a _hot_ make-out.

“Wow. Fuck, I don’t know what to tell you,” texts Tiblyn. “Maybe she was upset she got shut down. Jemilla’s pretty confident, usually.”

“Oh, I know,” types Zazzalil with a laugh.

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“No...”

“You probably should. Even if she’s at work, just shoot her a text.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” writes Zazzalil. “I gotta get ready for work here. Catch ya later, Tiblyn.”

“Seeya and good luck!”

Zazzalil rolls over in bed onto her stomach and buries her face into the pillows. She spends a moment snuggled in the darkness before hopping out of bed, washing her face in the nearby bathroom sink, and getting dressed in her all-black server outfit. It’s a sunny autumn day outside, so Zazzalil opts for a lighter denim jacket over top. Lastly, she puts her hair up in a bun. She checks herself out in the mirror before she leaves her room.

_Hell yeah, I’m cute._

The short drive to work is over before Zazzalil realizes it’s 10AM, meaning a) she’s pretty late and b) Jemilla will be at the Blue Hat in under two hours. She tries not to focus on the latter. As she enters the kitchen, Zazzalil is greeted by Clark and Grant- briefly. Both men are hard at work chopping up ingredients and watching the grills. Keeri enters the kitchen, just as Zazzalil hangs up her coat.

“Oh thank god,” says Keeri. “I’m swamped and almost called up the weekend staff.”

“What?” exclaims Zazzalil.

“Some old folks decided to bring in a group of fifteen for brunch, and then a varsity soccer team came in after their game. They’re all still here.”

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, K-dog,” groans Zazzalil. “I wouldn’t taken so long at home if I’d known.”

“It’s fine.” Keeri hustles to the drink machine to get some refills. “Help me carry these out?”

And so the morning turns into a real riot for Keeri and Zazzalil. The old folks take up most of the women’s time, asking for tea and coffee refills. On the other hand, the soccer team is extra hungry- some of the players get second entrees. Blue Hat regulars come in and out of the restaurant at a steady pace in the meantime. Zazzalil is thankful for the bustling pace this morning. It means less time with her thoughts full of worry and doubt about Jemilla.

Until Jemilla walks in the door at 11:40AM, of course. Then those thoughts come to the forefront of her mind. Jemilla and the hospital regulars arrive with perfect timing, and Zazzalil seats them in the usual two four-top arrangement. The group’s drink order is taken- Jemilla gets her tea with honey, honey, and that’s a good sign, Zazzalil decides.

Zazzalil heads to the kitchen, where Keeri is taking a quick break by the drink machine. Zazzalil begins to pour waters for the hospital group of seven when Keeri asks, “So what happened last night?”

Zazzalil hesitates. “Um. Jemilla and I drank two bottles of wine and I woke up feeling shitty.” It’s a half-truth.

“Damn, girl, that’s a lot of wine for a Wednesday,” laughs Keeri. “Did you get laid?”

“Wha- no! No, Keeri, Jesus!”

“Just checking who’s bed you woke up in. You _are_ pretty late this morning.”

“I told you, I was feeling gross after all that wine.”

Keeri smirks. “Okay.”

Zazzalil is blushing, which doesn’t help her case. She finishes up filling drink orders after a few minutes and carries them on a tray to the dining area. They are passed out amongst the hospital staff, who thank her kindly, and then Zazzalil takes their food orders. Jemilla gets her usual. As Zazzalil heads to a computer to enter the orders into a system, the ginger-haired woman stops her with a subtle touch on her arm.

“Can you do us a favour?” she asks in a whisper.

Zazzalil nods.

“It’s our intern’s birthday today. Can you bring her out some dessert after the meal?”

Zazzy’s eyes go wide and she nods again. She types orders into the computer and then returns to the kitchen once more.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

Jemilla’s birthday. How did that topic not come up at dinner?!

Zazzalil goes into overdrive. At the Blue Hat, customers receive a free square of white chocolate brownie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Usually, the dessert is covered in chocolate sauce, drizzled in a zig-zag pattern. This gives Zazz an idea. She throws the bottle of chocolate sauce into the freezer to help it thicken as a part of her plan.

After the food is cooked and served to the group of seven, Zazzalil runs to the kitchen and prepares Jemilla’s dessert. The brownie and the ice cream are the easy part. The chocolate sauce, however, requires some creativity. She drizzles it over the open parts of the plate to read, “Happy Birthday, Jemilla!” Zazzalil also draws a very crude dog next to the brownie.

Keeri watches over her shoulder, and exclaims, “That’s the cutest!”

Zazzalil smiles. “I’m trying. Help me sing?”

“Yes!”

The very last step of Zazzalil’s plan is to light a sparkler and stick it in the brownie like a birthday candle. Then Zazzalil marches out of the kitchen and into the dining area carrying the sparkling plate, Keeri right behind her. They both belt out the first notes of the Happy Birthday song, and Jemilla’s whole table joins in, followed by the other Blue Hat regulars.

And oh, the look on Jemilla’s face. It’s amazing- the way her eyes light up and how her lips curl into a huge smile is something that makes Zazzalil feel like her heart is full of light. Zazzalil places the plate of brownie and ice cream in front of Jemilla. She takes a second to read Zazzalil’s writing before blowing out the sparkler. The hospital staff, Keeri, and Zazzalil all cheer. Jemilla reaches out to squeeze Zazzalil’s hand with both of hers.

“Thank you!” she says in delight.

“Of course, Jemilla,” replies Zazzalil with a grin. She’s full of pride.

Other customers demand Zazzalil’s attention, and she tears herself away from the hospital staff’s table to serve them. Jemilla’s group leaves after another fifteen minutes. Jemilla’s napkin note of the day reads, “Thank you. Can we talk?”

* * *

_Can we talk?_

Zazzalil thinks of her break-ups that ended with those three little words. Her stomach churns.

Following her shift while relaxing at home, Zazzalil types out a message to Jemilla. “Hey, you wanted to talk?”

It takes a few hours for a reply to come back, and in the meantime, Zazzalil tries to distract herself with binge-watching a new Netflix release. She’s on the fourth episode of a fantastic sapphic dramedy when her phone buzzes.

“Can I come over to your place tonight?” reads the text from Jemilla.

“Yeah,” replies Zazzalil, along with her address.

Later on, dinner with Zazzalil’s parents ends and there’s been no Jemilla yet. Zazzalil heads back up to her room and flops into her beanbag chair. Full of anxiety, she opens Instagram and checks Jemilla’s account for updates. No new photos have been added to her gallery since her pre-date selfie, wherein she modelled the brilliant black dress Zazzalil now knows all too well. In Jemilla’s Insta story, there are some photos of the birthday presents and cards she had received. There’s even a photo of her Blue Hat Eatery dessert- of Zazzalil’s little chocolate drizzle dog. It’s captioned, “So sweet! <3”

Zazzalil breaks out the nail polish and gives herself a manicure and a pedicure in the time before the doorbell finally rings. Zazzy bolts to the door before her mom can reach it. She opens the door to see Jemilla bundled up for the cold fall night, in a sky blue jacket and a matching pink set of a scarf, beanie, and mittens. The steam of her breath floats into the night sky.

“Hey, come on in,” greets Zazzalil.

“Hello,” replies Jemilla as she enters.

She removes her jacket and stuffs the mittens and scarf into a sleeve, opting to leave the beanie on. Zazzalil hangs her jacket in the nearby coat closet.

“Come up to my room?” suggests Zazzalil, and Jemilla nods.

As they walk to and up the stairs, Jemilla peers at all of the framed photographs hanging on the walls of the house. Most of the pictures are of the only child, Zazzalil, and they range from adorable to downright embarrassing. Zazzalil tries to hurry their walking, both to avoid these and to dodge her parents. They don’t need to know Zazzalil has a girl in her room quite yet.

They arrive in Zazzalil’s bedroom. Zazzalil closes the door behind them and flicks off the ceiling light. Instead, the string lights on the wall create a dazzling effect that Zazzalil hopes Jemilla likes. A lamp also shines in the corner. The whole room is a little dim, but it’s tidy and definitely looks like a good place to relax.

“You can sit on the bed or the beanbag chair. Up to you,” says Zazzalil.

Jemilla smiles and sinks herself into the beanbag, so Zazzalil chooses to lay on her tummy on the bed.

“Welcome to my room,” she says.

“It’s great,” replies Jemilla. She’s eyeing up the nearby bookshelf. “You have a lot of books! I’m surprised.”

“Don’t tell anyone or I’ll have my cool card revoked,” snorts Zazzalil.

“We read a lot of the same stuff, actually.”

“Sweet.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence between the women. Zazzalil rests her chin on her hands and watches Jemilla. Jemilla is looking at her own hands as if the words she’s looking for are hidden there.

“You wanted to-”

“I think we-”

“You go first,” they say simultaneously. It brings a smile out of both of them.

“You talk, Jemilla,” insists Zazzalil.

Jemilla takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about what happened on our date.”

“What?”

“The way I came on to you in the bathroom. I feel bad about that, Zazzalil.” Jemilla twists her body to face Zazzalil on the bed directly. Now that she’s made eye contact with Zazzalil, Jemilla doesn’t break it.

“I- but, Jemilla, it was really _good_. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Well, thank you for the feedback,” laughs Jemilla. “And you looked hot as hell, too. But I should be sorry- I came on too strongly to you.”

“I think you can trust me, Jemilla.”

“I don’t know-”

“I’ve never gotten your order wrong, not once,” interrupts Zazzalil. Jemilla looks like she wants to laugh, but she just gives a sad smile.

“I have some serious fucking trust issues, Zazz.”

The mood in the room totally changes with that one line.

“Okay,” is all Zazzalil can say. She feels like ice is running down her back. That was an awful time to make a joke.

“I wanted to trust you so badly that I got really drunk to just.... bypass my own bullshit.”

“Jemilla-”

“I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t myself. I’m sorry.... I just got so used to being independent when my little brother was sick, you know? Everyone left me because of someone else. And he’s fine now, but I can’t seem to just _trust_ people to not drop me at a moment’s notice again.”

Jemilla seems to be on the edge of tears. Zazzalil is frozen in place, not really sure what to do with the information she’s just been given. Jemilla keeps talking.

“I want to trust you. I truly do. It’s just so hard, okay? It’s so tough to always be ready for important people to leave you. And that’s not even bringing my problems with envy into this. Once people decide another person matters more, you learn what envy really is.”

Zazzalil can’t reply.

“God, and now I’m dumping all of my life problems into the lap of a girl I’ve only know for a few weeks. Fuck, Zazzalil. I’m sorry.” Jemilla brings her knees closer to her chest and wipes the few tears she’s shed from her eyes.

“It’s okay, Jemilla,” says Zazzalil. “I’m listening.”

Jemilla sniffles, and Zazzalil rolls off of the bed to comfort her. She places one hand on Jemilla’s knee and the other on her shoulder. Jemilla’s hand finds the one on her shoulder and she squeezes it.

“Thank you,” sighs Jemilla.

They stay like this for some time, just breathing. Jemilla seems so cold to the touch. The tears start to dry on her face, and she sniffles again.

“Hey, Jemilla,” starts Zazzalil. “It’s okay to have your fears, you know. You don’t have to be perfect.”

Jemilla looks up at her.

“You’re a bit of a perfectionist, aren’t you?” asks Zazzalil. Jemilla nods sheepishly, and so Zazz continues, “It’s okay to have things you need to work on. You don’t have to be amazing all of the time. I know I’m not.”

“Okay,” whispers Jemilla.

“And this is going to sound dumb but I like you just the way you are, Jemilla,” says Zazzalil.

Jemilla genuinely smiles this time. “Can I have a tissue?”

Zazzalil retrieves her some from atop her dresser and hands them to Jemilla. Jemilla blows her nose and wipes the last of her tears away, then readjusts herself on the beanbag to be closer to Zazzalil, who has found a comfy position sitting on the floor.

“I’m glad to know you still think so highly of me, Zazz,” says Jemilla. “I’m still sorry for venting my problems to you like this, though.”

“Apology accepted, don’t worry,” says Zazzalil. “I didn’t know what you were going through, but thank you for telling me.”

Jemilla leans forward and pulls Zazzalil into a hug. The embrace is tight. Jemilla is still quite cold, so Zazzalil rubs a hand up and down her back. Jemilla sighs and leans into Zazzalil.

“You give good hugs,” decides Jemilla.

Zazzalil snorts. “You give good make-outs. It clearly balances out, J-Mills.”

Jemilla laughs at that and pulls back from the hug. “J-Mills? That’s new. I like it.”

“My latest invention,” says Zazzalil.

With Jemilla’s confession behind them, Zazzalil and Jemilla move into their normal chatter, sharing stories and asking questions about one another. This continues late into the night, far past what either of them would normally stay awake on a weekday, but it feels okay with one another. It feels natural. And when Jemilla leaves in her dad’s car at 1AM, Zazzalil wishes her goodnight- not with a kiss, but another meaningful hug. Jemilla hugs back tightly. 

That night, Zazzalil falls asleep with the feeling of Jemilla around her. It makes for magical dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gooooood i'm sorry this took so long. forgive me, i started a part time job in addition to full-time uni which kept me busy. but all of the amazing feedback i've gotten on this fic has been heartwarming and definitely made me excited to come back and write come more!! <3 enjoy!

Jemilla and Zazzalil go on their next date soon after that night. Jemilla insists on taking Zazzalil out to to the hiking trails where she spends a lot of her time. It’s a Saturday morning, and the fall weather is excellent: not a cloud in the sky, with the sun beating down on the earth. The trees have lost about half of their leaves, making both the tree-line and the ground underneath a collage of reds, oranges, and yellows. Zazzalil would normally love it.

Except.

Except it’s 9AM on a Saturday, Zazzalil’s favourite day to sleep in. She went dancing with Keeri and the girls last night as per tradition. She’s exhausted this morning, because her damn hips don’t lie. Zazz tilts her seat backwards and slurps noisily on the take-out coffee she ordered.

“You look grumpy,” laughs Jemilla, pulling out of the coffee chain’s parking lot. She’s driving, one hand on the wheel and the other holding coffee of her own. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail today and wrapped with a green knit headband that brings out the colour of her eyes.

“I _am_ grumpy. So tired,” groans Zazzalil. “I must really like you to have agreed to this.”

“I sure hope so,” replies Jemilla with a grin.

The two women drive along to the edge of the city. Peppy folk music plays along the way. Jemilla’s dog, Baby, is in the back of the SUV. He huffs and puffs in excitement, knowing in his doggy way that he’s headed to the trails.

“Your big German Shepherd’s name is _Baby_?” Zazzalil had asked.

Jemilla replied, “I let my little brother name him.”

Now, Baby’s slobber dribbles down the side of Zazzalil’s seat. Zazz thinks it’s gross, but Baby looks so happy that it’s hard to fault him. She reaches a hand back to scratch his ears. Baby leans into her palm, clearly enjoying the attention. His tail thumps against the leather seat. Jemilla notices this and gives a small smile. If Baby likes Zazzalil, it’s a good sign.

They arrive at the trails about fifteen minutes later. There are a handful of other cars in the parking lot. Looking around at the scenery, Zazzalil finishes the last sip of her coffee and crushes the cup in her hand.

“Ready to do this?” asks Jemilla.

“Exercise on a Saturday morning?” snorts Zazzalil. “I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be.”

They exit the car. Jemilla swings around to let Baby out of the SUV, and the majestic boy leaps to the ground. He’s tugging at his leash to get going, so Jemilla and Zazzalil let him lead the way. The entrance to the trails is just across the lot. The last wildflowers of the season border the gates, and ivy grows up the signposts of a large board declaring “PARK RULES” at the top. Next to this is a map of the trails.

“Rules? At a park?” says Zazzalil. “What is this, Disney World?

Jemilla quirks her eyebrow. “Of course there are rules here, Zazzy.”

“Like, what, ‘Don’t feed the deer?’”

“Yes, and also things like ‘Do not litter,’ ‘Do not stray from designated pathways,’ ‘No open fires,’ and ‘Take only pictures, leave only footprints.’”

Zazzalil looks to the rule board as they approach and the words become legible. Her jaw drops.

“Did you just recite those rules from memory?!”

Jemilla blushes. “Yes.”

“You... you nerd!” splutters Zazz, before letting a wide smile cross her face. Jemilla doesn’t reply, instead avoiding eye contact with the shorter woman. She bites her bottom lip, hiding laughter from Zazzalil.

“ _Somebody_ loves the rules,” says Zazzalil pointedly.

Jemilla doesn’t give Zazzalil the benefit of a reply. The two enter the park side-by-side, and Baby quickly veers over to a nearby tree for a sniff. Jemilla gives him a moment to do his business before they all embark down a trail marked “Moose Road”. It leads down a winding dirt path, surrounded by tall, thick trees and heavy underbrush. Squirrels can be heard chattering in the canopy. Zazzalil watches as Jemilla takes a deep breath, as if she’s trying to drink in the scent of the forest. She looks peaceful.

A breeze whips through the forest, forcing Zazzalil to zip up her maroon jacket. She hopes the wind doesn’t keep up, as the shade of the trees is already making the woods chilly. The group continues past a bend and walk alongside a shallow stream. It sparkles where the sunlight cuts through the canopy.

“Let’s play a game,” pipes up Jemilla.

Zazzalil turns to look at her. “Oh?”

“Two truths and a lie.”

“I’ve never played that one,” says Zazzalil. “Does it have rules?”

“Oh, shut up,” laughs Jemilla. Zazzalil grins back at her.

Jemilla continues, “It’s a get-to-know-you kind of game. Just say two truths and one lie, in whatever order, and the other person tries to guess which statement is the lie.”

“What do you win if you guess it right?” asks Zazzalil.

“Um, nothing. Unless you want snacks.”

“Hell yes, I want snacks!”

Jemilla procures a Ziploc full of trail mix out of her backpack. Baby looks up when he hears the crinkling of the baggie, tongue flopping out of his mouth- but when he realizes Jemilla doesn’t have treats for him, he loses interest and continues sniffing the ground and plodding forward.

“If you guess the lie, you get one of the M&Ms from here,” declares Jemilla.

“I’m down with that,” says Zazzalil. “You start.”

Jemilla nods and looks skyward while she thinks of her statements. Zazzalil takes this chance to admire Jemilla- her eyes, her figure, and the cute way she’s done her hair... everything, really. _I’m bi as hell,_ laughs Zazzalil internally.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” says Jemilla after a few moments. “I never had a Twilight phase. My favourite Greek goddess is Athena. And I never was suspended from school.”

Zazzalil blinks once, twice, and then replies, “You’re lying about never having a Twilight phase.”

“Shit,” says Jemilla. “You got it so fast. How’d you know?”

Zazzalil snorts. “Because _I_ had a Twilight phase, and you said the other day we have similar taste in books.”

“I’m not sure if I’m impressed or if you just did a self-burn,” laughs the taller woman.

“I wanted some sparkly vampire banging as much as the next girl, come on!”

They burst into giggles. Zazzalil says after a moment, “Why did you get suspended from school, then?”

“In eighth grade, I hollered at a kid to fuck off when I caught him making fun of my little brother. The teacher on playground duty wasn’t impressed with my language.”

“Ha, alright,” says Zazz. She grabs herself a chocolate candy from the trail mix bag when Jemilla offers it to her. “My turn?”

Jemilla nods, so Zazzalil takes a minute to think. They continue to walk in silence. The trail makes a steep incline and Zazzalil finds herself short of breath when she gets to its top. Meanwhile, Jemilla has barely broken a sweat. The women find themselves in a clearing at the peak of the hill, from which they can see miles and miles of treetops. The autumn colours of the trees make the world look like it is covered by a quilt. Zazzalil spies the parking lot in the distance. How have they already come this far?

“Okay. Two truths and a lie,” starts Zazzalil as they descend the other side of the hill. “I can beat my dad in an arm-wrestling match. I’ve never gone on a Tinder date. And I like mint-chocolate-chip ice cream.”

“Huh,” says Jemilla. “The tinder date one is a lie.”

“Wrong!” replies Zazzalil. “That one is true. I’m lying about the ice cream.”

Jemilla looks at her in surprise. “What’s wrong with mint-chocolate-chip ice cream?”

“It’s fucking toothpaste,” says Zazzalil.

Jemilla grins. “It’s delicious!”

The two come to a fork in the pathway. On the left, the trail exits the forested area, into a landscape full of tall, grassy hills; on the right, the path continues into the forest, with smaller trees than earlier and large shrubbery bordering the trail. Baby stops to urinate on the signpost at the intersection. When he finishes, Jemilla begins to lead the group to the left, but Zazzalil quickly stops in her tracks.

“We’re going to climb more hills?” says Zazzy. “No thanks, not feeling the cardio right now, J-Mills.”

“I’ll get you to do them another day, then,” says Jemilla with a smile. She winks at Zazzalil.

They loop around onto the rightwards path. A flock of small songbirds are perched somewhere nearby, and their peeping calls fill the air with music. The forest air here is humid and smells a bit sweet. Some of the shrubs still hold their last berries of the season. They freckle the landscape with bright reds and pinks. Zazzalil wonders if they are edible- and Jemilla suddenly grabs her hand.

“Look!” whispers the taller woman close to Zazzalil’s ear. Zazzalil turns to looks at her in surprise. Jemilla’s other hand points into the distance, further up the trail.

Zazzalil tears her gaze away from Jemilla’s lips so close to her own and follows to where Jemilla is pointing. There’s a group of three deer at the edge of the path about thirty meters away. None of them have antlers, so Zazzalil guesses they are does. They’re nibbling from the shrubs, gently and quietly. Jemilla and Zazzalil watch in silence, hand-in-hand. It takes about a minute before one of the deer spots the women and the dog. The other two deer turn their heads, and it’s suddenly as if Zazzalil is in a staring contest with the large animals.

Until Baby finally notices the deer, and lets loose with several loud woofs. The does are startled and run into the bush at once.

“Baby!” sighs Jemilla. She realizes her hand is still in Zazzalil’s, and gives it a squeeze before letting go. Her cheeks go pink, while Zazzalil’s flush a deep red. They start their walk again, towards where the deer were just seconds ago.

“That was really, um, cool,” says Zazzalil, trying to break the awkward tension.

“Yeah. I always feel so lucky when I see deer out here,” replies Jemilla. “The trails are usually so busy that they don’t come around during the daytime.”

“I’ve never seen a deer that close, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” says Zazzalil. “Maybe I should have saved that for my two truths and a lie. It’s your turn, by the way.”

Jemilla hums in agreement and takes a few moments to think. Meanwhile, Zazzalil considers grabbing her hand again. It felt lovely- like a natural progression in whatever they have going on. Zazzalil decides to wait for a good moment to ask Jemilla if it’s okay.

“Okay. I’m taller than my mom. I love rollercoasters. And I knit my headband myself,” states Jemilla. She looks at Zazzalil eagerly as she says this. “I think this is a bit tougher.”

Zazzalil barely hesitates. “You don’t like rollercoasters.”

“How the fuck?” laughs Jemilla. “You’re right.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Zazzalil does a little victory dance-slash-shimmy. It’s tough to do on the sandy trail, but she manages without stumbling.

“How’d you know this time?”

“You seem like the kind of person who I’d have to convince to get on a rollercoaster,” says Zazz. “Like, you’d get in line but then you’d start reciting rollercoaster crash statistics or something, and chicken out.”

Jemilla looks mock-offended, so Zazzalil sticks out her tongue. “Sorry! But I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Nope. You’re either really good at this game, or you’ve been stalking me,” snorts Jemilla. She offers the bag of trail mix to the shorter woman.

Zazzalil hesitates. _There’s no way she could know I’ve been on her Instagram, right?!_

“Zazzy?”

“Wha- right!” she grabs a few M&Ms from Jemilla, who eyes her with a friendly suspiciousness.

“Have you been creeping on me?” asks Jemilla.

“No!” mutters Zazzalil a touch too quickly. She stuffs the candies into her mouth. Her face feels hot.

“I mean, that would be okay- since I’ve totally been checking up on your Insta account since we met.” Jemilla says this as nonchalantly as she can. Still, she can’t help but crack a smile when Zazzalil whirls to face her, her own face coloured with shock.

“Serious?” asks Zazzalil.

“Have you _seen_ you, Zazzalil? You’re gorgeous,” replies Jemilla. “Of course I wanted to see more of you. Once a day at lunch wasn’t enough.”

All Zazzalil can wheeze out is, “Jemilla . . . that’s gay.”

Jemilla cracks up. “Really, really gay.” She takes a handful of trail mix and starts nibbling at it.

“And yeah, I’ve kind of creeped on you a lot. Your Insta, mostly.”

“I was hoping so,” says Jemilla between bites.

The pathway through the forest finally ends, once again at a fork in the road. The left trail leads downhill to an area dotted with swamps and ponds. Another pair of hikers can be seen in the distance with two small dogs of their own. Jemilla steers the group to the right, where the path leads to a clearing full of scrub and grasses. The sky is getting more and more cloudy as the day goes on, and so Zazzalil begins to wish she had worn a sweater underneath her jacket; the shadows cast by the clouds are as chilly as they are dark. She unravels her braid so her hair can hang over her ears and keep them warm.

“Are you cold?” asks Jemilla. She shoves the bag of tail mix back into her bag. “Let me feel your hands.”

“Uh, okay.” Zazzy lifts them up so Jemilla can hold them in her own. There’s a noticeable temperature difference between the women. Jemilla squeezes Zazzalil gently.

“Yikes,” she says. “But don’t worry, Zazz. We’re on the last stretch. I’ll keep one hand warm.”

Jemilla winks, and suddenly they’re walking forward together, really, properly holding hands. Zazzalil blushes furiously when she realizes what Jemilla has done.

There’s a lull in conversation as the ladies adjust to this new development. They walk, silently, each one trying not to show the other their bubbling excitement. It continues like this for a few moments, and during this time the pair of hikers from earlier overtake Jemilla and Zazzalil on the path. Baby woofs a few times at the Pomeranians the others are walking, and the small pups bark back. Before long, the strangers are out of earshot, and Zazzalil finally cracks.

“This is nice.”

“Oh?” prompts Jemilla.

“You know what I mean,” says Zazzalil, sticking out her tongue.

“Yeah.” Jemilla grins. “It’s wonderful. I hope your hand is warm, too.”

“It is. But I have to be honest, my legs are fucking exhausted.”

Jemilla laughs. “The parking lot is just around the bend there. Thank you for coming out with me today, by the way.”

“It was great once the coffee kicked in. And you kept me distracted from the fact that I was getting exercise. I could probably do this again,” says Zazzalil. “Definitely not ready for those hills, though. Give me a few more trips before we try that.”

“Deal.”

Like Jemilla said, the parking lot is in sight as soon at the group turns the corner. They make their way to Jemilla’s SUV. Baby, in a weird, doggy way, looks disappointed to be leaving, so Jemilla has to coax him into the car with treats. As soon as Zazzalil takes her seat in the passenger side, it feels as if her whole body is sinking into the cool leather and her legs are turning into jelly. She lets out a dramatic moan.

“Oh my goooooood. And you do this on the regular?”

“As much as I can,” replies Jemilla, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“You’re crazy.”

“A little.”

“I’m not saying I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

They hit the road back into the city. Zazzalil is beyond tired, but also incredibly happy. She starts to hatch a plan for their next date. How do you top a hiking adventure?

. . . She has an idea.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Just a reminder that this fic is rated T for Teen. Nothing here is more raunchy than you'd see on The CW or whatevs, but it's important to keep you all aware of this fact for this chapter. Please enjoy if you decide to continue <3

Turns out, it’s not so easy to top a hiking adventure. Or maybe it is, but it’s three hours until their date, and that’s one-hundred-eighty minutes until Zazzalil sees Jemilla’s reaction to the set-up. It certainly was hard to come up with the perfect plan, and Zazzalil had been agonizing over it for the past week. She’d be in the kitchen of the Blue Hat, tossing a salad, and all of the sudden there’d be lettuce and julienned carrots all over the countertop (with Keeri, Clark, and Grant losing their damn minds) because Zazzalil had gotten too lost in thought. It took right until Friday night for Zazzalil to realize that maybe simpler was better.

Maybe _simple_ was what a kinda-sorta high-strung person like Jemilla needed, Zazzalil had reasoned.

And so, Zazzalil places the final sheet across the top of the blanket fort, completing the snug spot where they will spend the night together. Two sleeping bags lay side by side within the fort, surrounded by plush pillows that create the impression of a nest. Zazzalil’s laptop awaits inside, too, perched atop a stool, with the movie _Imagine Me and You_ loaded up and ready to play. As a finishing touch, there’s a pile of junk food underneath Zazzalil’s bed: a box of Oreos, a bag of Munchie Mix, pouches of Capri Sun, and a bowl full of sour candies. Half of the candies are already gone due to Zazzalil’s stress-eating.

Zazzalil stretches out her sore back and surveys her work. It’s not a beautiful piece of cotton-polyester-blend architecture, given that she had to raid the family’s linen closet to get enough sheets and blankets to make the fort, but it looks cozy. She hopes Jemilla will love it.

Her phone buzzes. It’s Keeri. The text reads, “What uuup, girl?”

“Freaking out. What if this blanket fort idea was dumb? What if she thinks it’s immature??” types Zazzalil.

“OMG chill. Every-fuckin-one loves being in one of those things :P”

“Everyone?”

“Yup... good spot for shenanigans.”

 _Jesus Christ!_ Zazzalil doesn’t reply to that, and instead busies herself with the week’s dirty laundry that lays strewn about on the carpet.

* * *

Hour one. Zazzalil shoves about 75% of the laundry into the washing machine- unsorted, because honestly, does anyone under the age of thirty really care?- and vacuums her bedroom floor, inside and outside of the fort. She’s suddenly on a roll, and vacuums the rest of the household, too. Her stomach grumbles when she finishes.

Hour two. Zazzalil makes herself supper. She goes all out on a fancy recipe to pass the time: crepes suzette. It is de-fucking-licious. Her dad sniffs his way into the kitchen as she cooks, so she makes a few extra crepes for him as well. They eat together at the dinner table and Zazzalil dodges his questions about the girl sleeping over tonight.

Hour three. Oh god, thinks Zazzalil, one more hour. What to do? She decides to shower. And she’s already there, so she decides to shave her legs. And her armpits. And everything else, now that she’s started. At the end of it, she’s given herself the whole spa treatment, with sugar scrub and shower gel and a full shampoo-and-conditioner hair washing. Zazzalil feels as smooth as a baby dolphin when she exits the bathroom, her hair curled into a bright magenta towel.

Only now does she finally pause to think, _Why am I so nervous?_

The answer being, _I want to ask Jemilla if we can be girlfriends._

This statement hits her all at once. It had been at the back of her mind, sure, but now she has to face the reality of what she wants: to be committed. All she has to do is ask, and all Jemilla has to do is agree. Not a big deal, right? It wouldn’t be the first time Zazzalil has asked someone to be exclusive. But with Jemilla, it feels a little different. A little bit more serious. Zazzalil recalls Jemilla’s deep-rooted fear of being abandoned, and her heart pangs with hurt. She’d never want to do that to her.

The clock reads 7:51 PM. Nine more minutes until the time they agreed upon. Jemilla is always either perfectly on time or a few minutes early, so Zazzalil hurries to get her long, brown hair (mostly) dried and her body covered by a comfy pair of pajamas. She picks an oversized concert tee and a pair of cotton shorts. Her phone chimes with a text message alert just as she pops her head through the neck of the shirt.

“Here :)” reads a message from Jemilla.

Zazzalil bounds down the stairs and to the front door in seconds flat. She swings the door open, a burst of cold air rushing in simultaneously, and there is her date: _Jemilla._

Jemilla smiles brightly when she sees Zazz. “Hey!”

“Hi, J-Mills,” says Zazzalil. Her stomach fills with the sweetest butterflies. This fucking girl. Wow.

Jemilla steps inside and removes her shoes, shutting the door behind her. She is carrying an overnight bag- which Zazzalil politely takes from the taller woman, intending to carry it for her. Jemilla laughs gently at this as she removes her coat- which Zazzalil _also_ tries to take, albeit awkwardly, with only one hand.

“I got it, babe,” says Jemilla. She hangs her jacket in the nearby coat closet, and adds, “But your chivalry is duly noted.”

“I’m the most chivalrous gal on this side of the tracks, clearly,” replies Zazzalil.

“I don’t doubt it. How are you today?”

“I’ve been freaking out a little, but I’m okay,” confesses Zazzalil. “Anxious about this date. How are you?”

Jemilla dodges the question. “What do you mean, anxious?”

Zazz begins to lead Jemilla to her room, with her date’s bag slung over her shoulder. “I haven’t been able to sit still all day. I wasn’t sure if you’d like my date idea... and I want to impress you, so...!”

As they start up the stairs, Jemilla says, “I get to hang out with you, Zazz. I love it already.”

(Zazzalil is glad she is in front of Jemilla, as this sentence causes her to blush something fierce.)

They finally arrive at Zazzalil’s bedroom door, and the shorter woman pauses. Not to breathe in the wonderful scent of Jemilla, who smells like vanilla and brown sugar tonight, but to create dramatic effect before revealing the setup in her room. Jemilla raises her eyebrows. With a touch of pizazz, Zazzalil opens the door, and watches as Jemilla’s curiosity turns into surprise, and then delight.

“The blanket fort is super cute, Zazzy!” exclaims Jemilla.

“Thank god,” she replies. They enter the bedroom, and Zazzalil shuts the door behind them. Jemilla’s overnight bag is placed on the bed.

“I haven’t been in one of these forts since middle school. I think the last time was when I taught my little brother the art of building them--” Jemilla pauses. “Are those Oreos in there?”

Zazzalil nods, and Jemilla pumps a fist. “Nice, my favourite cookie. Did you know they’re vegan?”

“Ha, I didn’t. Maybe we should keep a box at the Blue Hat for the vegan customers.”

“But Zazz,” laughs Jemilla, “Then I’ll start ordering them at every lunch. That’s too expensive!”

The shorter girl joins in with the laughter. “Yeah, we’ll serve them on a dish with a sprig of parsley- then call it ‘gourmet’ and charge five bucks per Oreo.”

“I hate to admit it, but I’d still eat them,” snorts Jemilla.

The atmosphere of the room is light and lovely, and Zazzalil feels the anxiety in her body melt away. It looks like the stress of getting ready for the day was all worth it. Zazz shows Jemilla the other snacks in the blanket fort before her guest excuses herself to the washroom to change into pajamas. After a few moments, Jemilla returns, clad in a loose, purple tank-top and polka-dotted pants. She’s also wearing glasses, something Zazzalil hasn’t seen before.

“Do you normally wear contacts?” blurts out Zazzalil.

Jemilla looks insecure for just a moment, but composes herself quickly. “Yeah, most of the time.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean- uh,” mumbles Zazz, mentally punching herself in the face. “Didn’t realize. But you look adorable! Your whole get-up is great.”

“Thank you! These are my favourite pair of PJs.”

_Nice save._

“I declare that we can now enter the fort, as we are dressed in the proper attire for Pillowfortlandia,” says Zazzalil in a posh English accent. She bows to Jemilla, gesturing for her to crawl into the den of blankets.

“Most splendid, dearest,” replies Jemilla, going along with the act via an accent of her own.

The two crowd inside. It’s a bit more snug than Zazzalil anticipated- given that Jemilla has legs for days- but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Jemilla slides into a sleeping bag while Zazzalil fiddles with her laptop to get the movie started.

“What are we watching tonight?” asks Jemilla.

“’Imagine Me and You’, which is probably one of my all-time favourite films,” answers Zazzalil. “I’m not usually one for romantic dramas but this one really gets me. And it’s gay, so...”

“So it’s an excellent choice,” finishes Jemilla. “I haven’t seen this one but I’ve heard it’s good. What kind of movies do you normally watch?”

Zazzalil takes a second to consider the question, and slides into her sleeping bag next to her date as the film rolls its opening sequence. “I guess I’m a big fan of action-slash-sci-fi flicks, like the Marvel superhero stuff. And horror is good, too.”

“Oh, I love Marvel movies! Can’t say I agree on the horror, though. I’m more into... artsy stuff,” says Jemilla. “That sounds super hipster of me, doesn’t it? But I adore Wes Anderson films, and things like that.”

“You have a lot of hipster cred,” teases Zazzalil. She puts a finger to her lips. “Okay, the movie is starting.”

They settle in to watch. _Imagine Me and You,_ decides Zazzalil, is indeed an excellent choice. It tells the story of a woman who falls in love with a (lady) florist- at her own wedding to her (guy) best friend. It’s heart-wrenching, hilarious, and best of all, has a happy ending. As time ticks by, Zazzalil pays special attention to Jemilla’s reactions to the events of movie- she is very expressive. At one point, her secondhand embarrassment to a scene in a grocery market is so great that Jemilla can’t help but clutch Zazzalil’s hand and exclaim “Oh my god!”

(And she doesn’t pull her hand away after that. It makes grabbing snacks from the nearby bowls a bit difficult, but it’s worth it.)

The final scene of the movie leaves Jemilla in happy tears. Zazzalil has watched it enough that she is more or less unaffected by the on-screen events, but seeing Jemilla with wet, red cheeks and a great big grin makes her heart warm. Jemilla pulls her hand away to wipe at her eyes.

“So, what did you think?” asks Zazz.

Jemilla sniffles before answering. “It was really, really wonderful, Zazzy. Thank you for showing me that.”

“Aw, shucks. Even though it revealed that you’re a huge softie?”

“Even then.”

There’s a beat of silence where the women stare into each other’s eyes. Jemilla leans in first, and Zazzalil quickly shifts forward when she registers what is happening. They meet in a gentle kiss. Jemilla’s lips are even softer than- holy shit, they haven’t kissed since that time at the fancy restaurant in the bathroom stall?! Well, her lips feel softer than last time, and they seem sweet from the Capri Sun she was sipping throughout the movie. Zazzalil can’t help but dart her tongue out for a taste. Jemilla is receptive of this, and shifts closer to deepen the kiss. Their hands find each other’s bodies: Jemilla’s on Zazzalil’s waist, and Zazzalil’s slung over Jemilla’s shoulders. Zazz’s pulse begins to quicken.

“Is this okay?” Jemilla mumbles as she breaks away for a breath.

The shorter woman can feel her own blush forming on her cheeks. “Hell yeah.”

Her date snorts and says, “Awesome.”

Their lips come together again. The makeout begins calmer than their date long ago, but Zazzalil soon finds herself wanting more. She carefully nips Jemilla’s lip, who returns the energy with a soft giggle and a bite back. Jemilla seems to let her smooth, confident persona come out another moment later. She slips a hand underneath Zazz’s shirt to touch the skin of her abdomen. Zazzalil suddenly feels like she is full of hot, sparkling electricity, and adjusts herself to be sitting between Jemilla’s legs, almost straddling her. One of her hands tangles into Jemilla’s curls, and the other moves beneath her tank top.

They continue kissing, bodies heating up, until Zazzalil reaches her hand up Jemilla’s shirt too far.

“Holy shit!” whispers Zazz a little too loudly, drawing her hand back.

Jemilla leans back to look at her in confusion. Her glasses are comically smudged. “What?”

“You... you’re not...” stutters Zazzalil. “A bra. You’re not wearing one.”

The taller girl quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, no. I don’t wear one to bed.”

“I just wasn’t expecting- I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, Zazzy,” laughs Jemilla. “We’re grown, 20-something-year-old women. You can touch a boob.”

 _But it’s_ your _boob, Jemilla!_ Her brain feels like a washing machine full of tennis balls. “Yes. Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just caught me by surprise.”

Jemilla gives Zazzalil a quick peck on the cheek. “If you think we are moving too fast, we can slow down here. That would be fine.”

“No!” Zazzalil says too quickly. “That’s not it at all. I’m just super gay.”

That beautiful smile of Jemilla’s appears. “Me too.”

It’s now or never, realizes Zazzalil. “...and I feel really strongly about you, J-Mills.”

Jemilla’s face is coloured with curiosity. She looks at Zazzalil intently, but remains silent.

“Like, I want to spend more time with you than I already do. I think about you a lot when I’m not with you- which isn’t good for my productivity at work, but whatever. You’re just super amazing and beautiful and smart. Plus, I feel like my whole body is on fire when we touch,” blabbers Zazzalil. “I’m spewing word-vomit here. But, uh. Yeah. I’m really into you, Jemilla.”

Zazzalil can barely meet Jemilla’s eyes after confessing to her, but when she does, she finds her date bearing starry eyes and an encouraging smile.

“I’m into you, too, Zazzalil,” whispers Jemilla.

Zazz echoes her earlier sentiment: “Hell yeah.”

“Do you want to make this official, then?” asks the other woman, as she takes off her glasses and attempts to clean the lenses. It doesn’t help the smudging from their makeout very much, so she removes them altogether and places the glasses safely nearby.

“Yes!” replies Zazzalil as she looks on. As soon as Jemilla’s attention returns to her, she kisses her with confidence. Zazzalil adds, “And no take-backs.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” whispers Jemilla. “My cute girlfriend.”

They return to kissing, holding one another with more love than ever before.

 

 

 

 

(Zazzalil gets to touch _both_ boobs that night.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3


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